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PRINCIPLES And terms of art. 


€;!)e Sirtis uf Design^ 



Academy is an institution for the readier instruction of 
students in the principles and various branches of art. This 
seems to have been its original designation ; for as many of 
the principles of art require the elucidation of a liberal mind, 
luid extensive knowledge, it became necessary that these 
should be communicated by proficients in technical studies. 
Hence an Academy is now a considerable institution ; and 
should comprise, (i.j a number of teachers, each excellent 
in his department, whose lessons may direct the student; 
and (2.) conveniencies for accommodating the studies of 
those who are desirous of applying to practice the lessons 

Almost all the metropolitan cities of Europe (and some 
of the second rate) have now academies; at Rome, almost 
each nation has its appropriate academy. 

DiCT. Edit. 'j» 3 lu 


t A C A 

In London there have been for many years academical In- 
stitutions, in vvhich living models have been selected for the 
study of the naked ; originally in a more confined manner, 
at the academy in St. Martin's Lane j afterwards, when the 
Royal Incorporated Society of Artists of Great Britain ob- 
tained his Majesty's charter, they had a more considerable 
academy, and some public lectures : to these succeeded the 
Royal Academy. 

The principal studies in an academy usually are, Design, 
which is practised first from plaster models, casts irom the 
best antiques, &c. which is generally the first school : and 
after the student has acquired a facility in treating these sub- 
jects, the living model is his next study. 

Anatomy, in its relation to art, is usually taught by some 
eminent surgeon. 

The other professors, such as of architecture, painting, 
sculpture, &c. are commonly members of the academy, 
and deliver lectures in their turns. 

The ^OYAL Academy of London consists of fort)' aca- 
demicians, painters, sculptors, or architects ; twenty asso- 
ciates ; and six associate engravers, who are incapable of 
offices, and of voting. 

The Officers are a president, council, consisting of 
eight members, four of whom go out by rotation, yearly; 
and vvho at each meeting receive two pounds five shillings, 
equally divided among them, or are fined for non-attendance. 
The whole body of the academicians meet once a year, to 
adjudge premiums, &c. and each receives five shillings for 
his attendance. There is also a secretary, who has apart- 
menta in Somerset House, and a salary of 60/. per annum ; a 
keeper, who has apartments, and a salary of 100/ per annum, 
who superintends the aca.lemy ; a treasurer, salary 60/. per 
annum; libruri^in, salary 50/. Jjcsidc these, nine visitors 


;iA>ia!..; Ll^::^ 

A C A $ 

are elected from among the academicians, who, in rotation, 
attend the acadetny, set the model, and instruct the students. 
Each has los. bd per night, for his attendance. 

The professors are four : the professor of painting, the 
professor of architecture, the professor of perspective, and the 
professor of anatomy ; each of whom dehvers annually six 
lectures, and receives a salary of 30/. 

The academy for design is held in summer at five o'clock 
in the evening, in winti r at six o'clock. 

The library is open one day in every week (Monday), 

The funds of the academy consist of the monies received, 
at the annual exhibition; and the surplus, after expenses are 
defrayed, is annually vested in the public stocks. These funds 
are open to various calls for charitable purposes, such as 
tjonations to decayed academicians, and their widows. 

Premiums of gold and silver medals are distributed to 
those students who excel : as, for the best picture in oil 
colours, the gold medal ; another for the best has relief '^ 
another for the best design in architecture. Silver medals 
are given for the best drawings from the living model in the 

The keeper of the academy admits students, but their 
admission must be confirmed by the council within a year. 
When a student offers himself for admission, he must shew 
a specimen of his abilities to the keeper. 

The keeper, visitor, and secretary, preserve: order and de- 
corum, or reprimand and rusticate students who misbehave. 

Students who have gained the gold medal, may be candi- 
dates for the journey to Italy, where three years are allowed, 
at a pension of 100/. per annum, 

The antique academy consists of plaster casts, &c. from 
the most esteemed studies, one of which is set out weekly, 

B a to 

4 A C C 

to be drawn from ; the hours are in the morning from 
eleven o'clock to two. 

The living model sits three nights, two hours each time, 
in the evening. 

No copies are allowed to be exhibited. All exhibitors 
have free admission to the exhibition, and it is usual for the 
exhibitors to dine together once a year at the expense of 
the institution. 

To such an institution there should also be a professor of 
antiquity, who should explain the ancient mythology, reli- 
gious ceremonies, civil ceremonies, habits military and civil, 
&c. &c. It is remarkable that the errors of young artists 
on these subjects, are not only numerous but gross; because 
not all of them have enjoyed the advantage of a liberal edu- 
cation, and yet these subjects are those most frequently 
treated by the chisel and the pencil. 

Academy Figui:e is a study made from the life at a pub- 
lic school. In setting an academy figure, care should be 
taken that the attitude be natural, and that it expose the 
noblest parts, Sec. In drawing an academy figure, care 
should be taken not only that it be correct in proportion, but 
also in effect : and that accidental particularities be not ex- 
alted to general principles. 

ACCESSORIES are certain secondary and inferior intro- 
ductions into the composition of a picture : in many in- 
stances, they are like an episode in poetry, and relieve the 
attention of the spectator ; in others they are explanatory 
and illustrative, which, indeed, is their proper character. 
Sometimes they are merely of service as contributing to ge- 
neral effect, or harmony, without other importance. 

ACCIDENTS. This term is used chiefly in relation to 
light and shadow : for instance, when from among a great 
body of dark clouds the rays of the sun break forth, and en- 

ADO 5 

lighten certain objects, this light is said to be accidental ; 
and the parts or objects enlightened by it are said to be en- 
lightened by accidental light. The same expression is applied 
to light which breaks out unexpectedly, as it were, whether 
from a torch or lamp, &c. and strikes on objects distant 
from the main body of light. Accidental lights ought never 
to oppose the principal light, but to support it, to harmo- 
nize with it, and thereby to subserve the general effect of 
the piece : when thus mildly introduced they often produce 
ITiost delightful effects, 

ACTION is not only understood of a determinate atti- 
tude of a figure, but also of a correspondent expression of 
every part of that attitude: thus the action of the hand, of 
the hg, &c. must agree, and relate to the general senti- 
ment of the figure. Action should always be natural, and, 
if possible, graceful : it is intimately connected with charac- 
ter and expression. 

Action may also be taken in another sense, as the subject 
of a picture. Language is the action of poetry, which is 
incapable of pourtraying forms : action is the language of 
painting, which is incapable of pronouncing words. The 
Only fit subject for picture, therefore, is, that where some de- 
terminate and expressive action affords scope for the powers 
of art. 

ADHERENT, that which is joined to, or attached to, 
some thing, or body. Draperies should not adhere to the 
figure which they surround, in a picture : and this kind of 
adherence in sculpture, is rather tolerated than advised : it is 
the least of two evils, therefore is so far to be chosen, but 
even in sculpture its excess is unpleasant. 

In Design the adherence of draperies, &c. is hard, mea- 
gre, and poor. 

ADORATION, A name given to a picture representing 


6 A D V 

the I^fagi, or wise men of the East, worshipping the infant 
Jesus. Our notions of the persons and circumstances of 
this visit are derived from supposititious authority, and 
many errors are tolerated in pictures of this subject : such 
as the Magi being kings, &c. 

ADVANClNG,inpainting,is that effect whereby the idea 
of interval, and distance, is presented to the spectator. As it 
is impossible for any part of a picture to project, or to seem to 
project, before the canvas on which it is painted ; therefore 
the efficient cause of advancing must be sought in its cotl- 
rrzry, recession; and it will always be found, that according 
to the accuracy and certainty with which any part recedes^ 
its opponent will advance. 

The vigorous touches of a spirited pencil, and a just ap- 
plication of colours, contribute to advancing, or to bring 
forward objects in general. White advances objects, accord- 
ing as it is opposed to dark colours, shadows, &c. without 
which opposition it rather contributes to distance. 

White may maintain itself on the front of a picture, and 
T)c employed pure : but it has been hesitated, whether it 
may maintain itself in distances, the light being supposed 
common. Du Fresnoy concludes in the affirmative, be- 
cause it is the nearest approach to light ; and thus Titian, 
Paul Vkronkse, and others, who have best understood 
light, have regarded it; and in landscapes it is generally 
so employed. 

Jilack brings forward all objects to which It is applied : by 
a happy contrast of white and black, the most agreeable 
effects are obtained. 

If, for example, it were required to paint a u'hite horse, 
on the front of a picture, it would be necessary, in order 
to determine the station of this object, to contrast it — either 
with a darkish back-ground, or darkish harness, or a rider, 


ALL 7 

whose dress might be of a colour either darkish, or at least 
sensible, and firm. 

When black is employed to advance an object, the ut- 
most care should be taken that it docs not make spots, or 
holes, but that it harmonizes with tlie general masses. 

AfclRIAL Objects arc those which by their lightness 
seem suspended in the air, or to have a relation to that ele- 
ment. To this effect, light colours, light drapery, as it were 
transparent, and easily agitated, very greatly contribute. 
- Aerial Perspective, although usually applied to the 
effect of such distances as permit the air to discolour them, 
yet is more or less operative on every object, and in every 
part of a composition. Its principles have been discussed 
in the Lectures. 

AIR is taken in one sense the same as aerial. 

AIR is used to express the peculiar turn of the attitude 
of a figure, or of a part. An air is light, or heavy, graceful 
or awkward, &c. In heads this is of great moment: the air 
of a portrait should be characteristic, and genteel, if pos- 
sible. Not all painters succeed in the airs of their heads ; 
but are apt to repeat themselves, and become mannerists. 
In historic composition, Rai^haelle has the noblest airs of 
his heads. 

ALLfclGORY is useful on many occasions : it consists 
in selecting and applying (according to poetic license, vet 
not without the regulation of propriety and decorum) sym- 
bolical objects, or personages, whose relation to the main 
import of the piece ought to be clear and unembarrassed. 
Thus, in allegory, many persons and particulars may be in- 
troduced or hinted at, whose real appearances would be 

Allegorical, or Symbolical, fi<rurcs belon<i to Icono- 



8 A M A 

ALTO RELIEVO is that kind of sculpture, wherein, 
though the figures are attached to a plane back ground, 
yet they project very considerably from it; they stand out, 
as it were, almost clear, though held by the back ground 
for their security. See Basso Relievo. 

AMATEUR is a French term, for which we have no re- 
gular equivalent in English : it is taken to signify a person, 
who, though no professed artist himself, yet joins to a love 
for the arts, sufficient taste and knowledge to encourage and 
patronize them, by collecting their productions, and by ju- 
dicious animadversion on their merits. 

A person may possess a love for the arts, and a sense of 
their excellencies, without any very profound knowledge: 
but when knowledge is happily united to such inclination, 
it renders the opinion and judgment of its possessor very 
estimable and important. 

There is nothing of greater consetjuence to art, than that 
those who favour it, should rightly discern its merits; since, 
by their judicious cultivation, valuable plants may be 
brought to maturity ; or, by their caprice, the most noxious 
weeds may overspread the soil. Next to their personal 
judgment, artists are beholden to the patrons of art for 
those inestimable collections they assemble ; where, besides 
the entcrtainiuent of seeing together the performances of dif- 
ferent ages, masters, and countries, the improvement they 
aftbrd to a student is obvious and extensive. 

It must, however, be acknowledged, that, from some un- 
fortunate cause, the collections of English amateurs arc not 
of that use they might be; since access to them is sur- 
rounded with obstacles : so that although there is, perhaps, 
no nation which possesses more valuable treasures, they are 
not equally useful to the arts, as many foreign cabinets. Nor 
IS there any good considerable public collection of per- 

4 formances/ 

ANA *9 

formances, to which the student may resort, for correcting 
or improving his manner and taste. In this respect, we 
must acknowledge the continental amateurs greatly excel 
US5 for, among them, to desire the sight of a celebrated ca- 
binet, is taken as an acknowledgment of its merit, and an 
honourable compliment paid to the taste of the ow^ner. 

AMFHIPROSTYLE, /. c. double Prostyle, or having 
pillars in both frontsj according to Vitruvius, the third order 
of temples. 

AMPHITHEATRE, a place for exhibiting shows ; very 
spacious, of a round or oval figure, with many seats rising 
on every side. The area in the middle was called arena, be- 
cause it was covered with safjd, or sawdust, to diminish its 
sllpperiness, and to absorb blood. It was also called cavea, 
because surrounded by the caves, or dens, in which the wild 
beasts were kept, with which the combatants fought. The 
arena was surrounded by a wall called podhari, twelve or 
fifteen feet high, on the top of which a parapet projected, 
for the safety of the spectators. The seats were distributed 
the same as in a theatre. The entrances to the seats were 
called vomitoria, the passages by which to ascend to the seats 
scalip, or scalaria, and the seats between two passages, 
from their wedgelike form, were called cuneus. These, as 
well as theatres, were originally only temporary, and of 
wood ; many were afterwards built of stone. Rome had se- 
veral ; the principal was that built by Titus, called the 
Coliseum, which was large enough to contain eighty-seven 
thousand persons. We have given a view of its remains. 

ANAMORPHOSIS is a subject drawn, or painted, ac- 
cording to the strict rules of optics, and perspective, which 
appears of its proper form, &c. seen from that point for 
which it is constructed, and from that point only: from all 
other points it appears confused and unintelligible. Sub- 

DiCT. Edit. 7. c jects 

le A N I 

jects thus treated are instances of the power of optics, and 
are curious, but useless : for it seems more desirable to re- 
gulate, and to put in order what is confused, than to con- 
fuse what should properly be regular and orderly. 

ANATOMY may be taken, in design, for the knowledge 
of the external appearances of the human frame, in its vari- 
ous attitudes and positions : also, for the same knowledge in 
the appearances of animals, &c. 

This science is indispensable to art, which, without it, 
would be not only uncertain, but often false, contradictory, 
and insipid. It comprehends not only a knowledge of the 
origin and insertion of the muscles of the body, but also of 
their actions in various motions of the figure, and their effects 
of light and shade, &c. Correct anatomy is of great con- 
sequence) for although every spectator cannot discover 
wherein anatomical errors consist, yet most can perceive a 
something, which being unusual, is also unpleasant. 

ANIMATED is spoken of objects which approach, in 
their appearance, to the nearest and most perfect resem- 
blance of nature, supposed in the same circumstances. 

A portrait is animated, when a spectator might almost 
mistake it for real life : a figure is animated when it closely 
resembles the very movement of a living figure, in such a 
situation j and a groupe of figures is animated, when the 
whole seemSj as it were, alert and lively. 

Animation depends much on correction of design, on 
vivacity of colouring, and on proper support by the back 
ground, and other accompaniments in a picturej in a statue, 
on the vigour and verlsiniility of expression. 

Those painters who have too closely copied the antique, 
have seldom given e\traordinary animation to their figures : 
the leading ideas of statues being rather repose and grace, 
than vigorous and energetic motion. The ancient figures 


ANT ir 

are usually calm and composed, and their outlines rather 
gliding and smooth, than sharp and determinate, which is 
required by animation. Animation in nature is but mo- 
mentary, and therefore requires diligent inspection to discern 
and catch it. 

ANNULET, a small square moulding, which serves to 
CTOwn or accompany a larger, and to separate the flutings in 

ANTIPATHY is used to express the opposition between 
certain colours : from which opposition, as from dissonance 
in music, arises the majority of agreeable effects. The con- 
trol of this antipathy, the softening and regulating it, or the 
giving it full force and effect, is among the distinguished to- 
kens of a master. Let it in general be observed, that as 
any one object in a picture is heightened, the others are cor- 
respondently depressed ', or, as others are depressed, some 
particular object is heightened. To determine which should 
give place, and which should take It, is the province of 
judgment. A colour is said to have an antipathy against 
another, if, when compounded together, the mixture is of a 
disagreeable oflfensive hue : if a third colour thus produced 
is bad, the two original colours are not good, and softness of 
effect is not to be expected from their being neighbours. 

ANTIQUE is a term usually applied to all the produc- 
tions of architecture, painting, and sculpture, during the best 
times of art in Greece and Rome : which may be permitted 
to comprehend from the time of Alexander the Great, to 
that of the Emperor Phocas; in whose reign the Goths ra- 
vaged Italy, and destroyed the noblest works of genius of 
former ages. Not that during the above period the arts 
were equally excellent, yet they possessed much merit, espe- 
cially compared with succeeding times. The French (vide 
Feliblen) have made, at least formerly, a distinction between 

c Z ancient 




ancleut figures^ calling them antiques i and ancient build.-, 
ings, calling them antiquities. 

The antique is regarded as a model and rule for the de- 
signer and the sculptor ; and it must be confessed, the purity 
and grace of the antique, in respect of form, is unrivalled j 
the ancient artists paying to these principles their chief at- 
tention, and possessing advantages for their perfection^ 
which we do not enjoy. Italy is now the grand school of 
ancient art: it is resorted to by numbers of young artists, 
who wish to perfect their studies j and of gentlemen, whose 
curiosity leads them to inspect such subjects. Not that 
every piece of antiquity is valuable for its merit, or at least 
for merit surpassing modern art ; although we confess the 
capital instances of ancient skill must ever be placed in the 
highest rank of excellence. 

As to determining what is, or is not antique, it is now 
no easy matter, since the imitations are, perhaps, as nu- 
merous as the originals. Michael Angelo Buonarqtti, 
desirous of c'eceiving certain connoisseurs, made a statue in 
imitation of ihe antique, whicli he broke in a certain part, 
and having buried it where he knew they would dig, all who 
beheld it when found, judged it antique; till they were 
undeceived by its author, who confirmed his right to it by 
producing the broken fragment. 

The sentiments of so great a master as Rubens, on the 
study of the antique, cannot fail of being acceptable to our 
readers; we shall therefore offer them a translation of his 
Essay De Imitallone Slaiuurum. The original was pub- 
lished by Mons. Y)\j Piles, who possessed the MS. 

" To some [painters] the inutation of the antique statues 
is extremely useful; to oihers dangerous, even to the ruin 
of their art. 1 conclude, nevertheless, that for the per- 
fection of painting, an intelligence, and even deep relish of 


ANT 13 

the antiques, Is necessary ; but their application ought to 
be judicious, and divested of every peculiarity of the marble. 
Many unlearned, and even some learned artists, do not 
distinguish the form from the material, the stone from the 
figure, nor the difficulty the sculptor labours under in treat- 
ing marble. 

" It is a principle readily granted, that the best statues 
are very useful, as the bad are not only useless, but also 
hurtful. Young artists sometimes imagine themselves irti- 
provcd, \\hen they have gathered from them, I know not 
what, of the crude, rugged, difficult, and thorny in ana- 
tomy : but the coloured marble they represent instead of 
flesh, is a scandal to nature. There are many accidents to 
be remarked and avoided, even in the best statues : not in- 
deed the fault of the master, but arising from the difTerence 
of their shadows ; seeing that in real life the flesh, the skin, 
the cartilages, by a kind of transparency, very much softeii 
the demi-tints and shadows, which the stone by its density 
blackens, and thereby seems yet more opake than it really 
is. Add to this, that in nature there are certain parts which 
vary with every motion, and which, by the suppleness of 
the skin, arc either smooth, or contracted and wrinkled. 
These sculptors generally avoid, but the best sculptors 
admit them ; and in painting, moderately used, they arc 

*' The lights also on the marble differ from those which 
are seen on flesh ; the shining of the marble, and the 
sharpness of the light, heightening the superficies more 
than it really isj or deceiving the eye by its rapid declina- 

^' The artist, who, by a wise discretion, guards against 
these evils, may fully study the antique statues : for in our 


14 ANT 

erroneous and degenerate age, our low genius keeps us back 
from that success which has attended the ingenuity, judg- 
ment, and heroism of the ancients. Either the clouds of 
former acjes surround us; or not having retrieved former 
errors, it pleases God to suffer us to proceed from bad to 
worse; or whether, to their irreparable damage, our minds 
are enfeebled as the world grows old ; or whether, in these- 
latter ages, natural objects are degenerated from what they 
were when nearer to their origin, and do not now offer those 
beauties they formerly did. Perfection of form and stature, 
anciently combined, has perhaps, in the lapse of ages, been 
gradually divided and dissipated, by the corruption attend- 
ttnt on increasing vice. This idea seems supported by the 
accounts given us by ancient authors, as well sacred as pro- 
fane, of the heroes, giants, and cyclops ; and although 
they herein relate many fables, yet, without doubt, they 
also relate many truths. 

'' The principal causes wherefore the men of our times 
differ from those of antiquity, are indolence, and living 
v.ithout exercise ; for many only exercise their bodies in 
feasting and drinking ; therefore, having always a loaded 
stomach, always replete with gluttony, their legs become 
enervated, and their arms reproach each other with idle- 
ness. On the contrary, the ancients universvilly practised 
their exercises daily in their academies and wrestling-schools, 
and that with a violence of exertion, even to sweating and 
extreme fatigue. 

" See in Mercurialis De Arte Gymnasticay to what va- 
rious kinds of labour, how difficult and how vigorous, 
they were accustomed. In fact, they were well adapted to 
consume the too soft and indolent particles; corpulency 
was prevented ; and instead of becoming fat, the parts be- 

A Q U 15 

came fleshy : for whatever in the human body Is constantly 
in exercise, as the arms, the legs, the neck, the shoulders, 
and whatever parts are active, are assisted by nature, and 
draw by their heat a nutriment, which vastly increases and 
strengthens them, as we see in the backs of porters, the 
arms of boxers, the legs of dancers, and almost the whole 
bodies of rowers." 

Such was the opinion of Rubens j which, perhaps, at- 
tributes too much to the personal forms of antiquity, and 
too little to that indefatigable industry and research, which 
discovered and selected the most agreeable and characteristic 
forms, from among the porters, rowers, and dancers of 
those days ; and which, perhaps, in the present times, 
might succeed not less happily in the same course of study, 
if attended by the same perseverance and judgment. 

*^* The remarks on the lights and shadows of the mar- 
bles, are equally just and applicable, in relation to plaster 
figures ; and ous^ht never to be out of the student's mind 
and observation. 

AQUA-FOKTISproq/>, or Etching p70o/>, are impres- 
sions taken off copper plates, immediately after their biting 
is concluded. Their use is, to discover the real effect the 
aqua-fortis has had on the plate, in order to apply what 
further workmanship is requisite. It is common to consider 
aqua-fortis proofs as so many studies of the master, and they 
often are very valuable. Plates executed by painters, aie 
seldom any thing further advanced than by the aqua-fortis ; 
and herein they discover the master's hand. 

AQUEDUCT, an artificial canal, built for the con- 
veyance of water from one place to another, either running 
under ground, or rising above it. The Romans built very 
magnificent aquseducts, some of v/hich passing through 


i6 ARC 

rocks and mountains, and over vallies, brought water to 
Rome, from the distance of sixty miles ; their height in 
some places more than one hundred and nine feet ; raised 
on two or three tiers of arches. The water brought to the 
(CastellumJ principal reservoir in the city, was copiously 
distributed to all parts by pipes. Frontinus has left a trea- 
tise on the subject, wherein are descrilied nine Aquaeducts ; 
others were afterwards added. The New River at London 
is an Aquaeduct, but of a different kind. For remains of 
Roman Aquieducts vide plate. Temple of Faunus. 

AR^OSTYLE, according to Vitruvius, the fourth method 
of intercolumniation, to which four diameters are allowed 
between each column. See plate xxviii.p. 76. Architec- 

ARCHITRAVE, the lowest principal member of an en- 
tablature, lying immediately upon the abacus of the capital. 
See plates xxiii. xxiv. p. 68. Architecture. 

ARCHITECTURE is a science, some of whose prin- 
ciples we have elsewhere considered. It requires an union 
of many very valuable studies to make an expert practical 
Architect: geometry, accuracy in calculation, know- 
ledge in the value, and employment of Materials, the mul- 
tiplied manners of preparing them, the proportion, and 
propriety of their uses, judgment to know when they are 
well used, and foresight to determine their probable effect : 
taste to form such ornamental erections as may be required 
for state, and contrivance to compose such as shall be con- 
venient and domestic, 8cc. Sec. 

Architectural DESIGNS are allowed many liberties, 
which though contrary to the strictness of truth, yet in this 
science must be admitted : such as geometrical elevations, 
and plans, void of perspective, since, otherwise, accurate 

4 measures 

ATT 17 

measures could not be adapled. Mbreover, to render sen- 
sible the recessions of distances, though but sniall, a tint of 
colour somewhat stronger than nature would justify, is 
pardonable, if it be not extrt.nie.' Also an architectural 
drawing may shew a ge6nictricaj plan, elevation and section, • 
together with parts of the same in perspective, where no 
invincible obstacles forbid. These, and whatever other 
liberties contribute to a good understanding of the design, 
are tolerated ni architecture, though not justified by strict 

ARTICULATION is an anatomical term adopted in 
painting, which expresses the representation of those parts 
where the joints, -and insertions of the bones into each other, 
are most apparent : this article is of the greatest consequence 
to correctness ; as an error here affects the whole limb. 

ARTIST-LIKE is applied to subjects treated with spirit, 
skill, and propriety, in a masterly manner and style. 

ATTITUDE ; the general action of a figure : the posture 
chosen by the artist for his figure. The effect of attitude 
depends on design. The ancients studied deeply whatever 
might contribute to the elegance of attitude; and herein, 
they arc in many respects our preceptors. 

Attitudes should be natural: such as the human body Is 
not only capable of [i. e. such as it possibly could produce, 
as in posture-masters and :-tage-tumblers, dancers. Sec), 
but such as without constraint it chooses, and, as it were, 
enjoys. Walking, for instance, varies as it is quicker or 
slower ; and the movement is in both these cases easy and 
natural : but although it is possible for a pcrsoii^to walk on 
tip-toe, yet, unless such an attitude be necessary as con- 
tributing to cxpreFsion, it is reprehensible in a figure 

DicT. Edit. 7. i.> Attitude 

i8 ATT 

Attitude should also be characteristic^ since many atti- 
tades are contracted through personal b.abit: and expressive, 
since ptherw ise it is unintelligible. 

Attitude should be simpk: sudden breaks in the general 
!i«es of a figure, injure attitude. There are in nature an 
'.Atniite variety t)f attitudes, to perform the same thing. 
A figMrc seert on its different sides, forms almost so many 
different attitudes : but not all <?qually good, because in 
some there must be an inferiority of parts, and an interrup- 
tion of the principal sway of the figure. 

Contrast assists attitude ? in the attitudes of a irroupe of 
figures, contrast is indispensable. The antagonist muscles 
of the body impart a contrast, one scries being in exertion 
while the other is at re^t, and so on alternately, as it were, 
double sets of springs relieving each other. 

Attitude should not be tame, insipid, lifeless, and inert; 
nor yet swaggering and pompous : but decorous, animated, 
and graceful. 

The attitudes of models should not be too closely de- 
pended on. Nature is the general and only adequate guide 
on the subject of attitude. 

By way of explaining these ideas we have accompanied 
this subject with a plate or two. 

riate I. Contains four different views of the celebrated 
anti(jue statue of AwTiNOUS. It appears from these instances 
that the attitude of a figure so greatly varies to a spectator 
according to the situation from whence he inspects it, that 
it may be considered as scarcely the same. The first and 
second of these sketches are somewhat alike, but the first 
and last are unlike, and would not without previous inform- 
ation be taken for the same figure. Tins remark enforces the 
necesi-itv, not only of a good attitude to a figur<^, but also 


l////ii^/r /'/J. Dl( • . iB 


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ft . • - ■-?&: ■) 


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A T T ~ X9 

of a good view of that altitude, since the principal lin*3 
of a figure, and those whereon its grace depends, are not 
equally vi'iibic on every side, but are in some views obscured 
and concealed. 

Plate_II. The two upper figures of this pLitc arc views 
of the AroLLO Pythias, and confirm the principles of 
plate I. The difl'ercnt view of the njembers, their diflerenl 
fore-shortenings, Sec. merit notice. 

The two lower figures arc opposite views of a LeDA ; 
and shew that diversity of situation has by no means less 
force on a drapery figure than on the naked, as drapery, 
by its bulk, is apt to conceal as svell the leading ideas of 
a figure, as smaller objects. 

Plate III, No. I, 2, are two peasants listening to a story; 
one pokes forward his head, hugs himself with his arms, 
and bends his rems, resting equally on both feet ; the other, 
jlso a peasant, yet not quite so boorish, stands more up- 
right, and is less offensive in his attitude. 

No. 3. Is a woman listening, whose awkward air ex- 
presses rusticity and low life. 

No, 4. Is a lady also listenin.g, w hose attitude, erect but 
not stift'j is contrasted by the former, and shews the effect 
of education. 

Plate IV. In this figure arc displayed the prirvciples of 
VARIETY in attitude, as imparting graceful sway, easy mo- 
tion, and contrast in the inclining poise of the body. 
Thus when the face is fronting, the body is turned some- 
what sideways, and the legs fronting, Sec. also when one 
shoulder ris??, \h.e other sinks ; the hips, knees, and feet, 
the same ; as in this figure, 1. shews the motion of the 
head; 2. the rising of one shoulder; 3, the rising of the 
opposite hip; 4. the rising of the contrary knee, Jkc. by a 

D 2 kind 

20 B A L 

kind of alternation. If this figure were viewed sidewnvs, 
it would appear that the same principle attended it . what- 
ever part projects, a corres^pondent part retfres. 

AUIILOLUS, Nimbus, or Glory, a kind cf m-'iant 
crown given to Saints, &c. by painters, much more c(.m- 
morily ftirmeriy, than of late. The use of this? .emblem i? 
very ancient, being employed in early ages by the heathen 
to distinguish their divinities. 


JlSALANCE : a piece whose forms, lights and shades, 
colours and expressions, arc happily adapted to its various 
parts, may be said to be well balanced ; or, that no part of 
the picture possesses undue preponderance : but to seek to 
iiTake an exact balance of all parts, is to counteract the 
effects of composiiion, colouring, light and shade, and 
every other valuable principle. 

BALANCE OF Painters is a comparative estimate of 
their merits, first formed by Mons. Du Piles, who has 
in this manner slated his judgment of the most celebrated 

He divides painting into composition, design, colour- 
ing, and expression : in each of these branches he con- 
siders twenty as the highest possible attainment, or perfec- 
tion ; under that he places the degrees of merit to which 
each master has advanced in aiming at twenty. The 
scheme may be acceptable to our readers. 


( 21 ) 

Balance uf celebrated Painters, 


Alkano . 
Albert Durer . 
Andrea del Sarto 

Barochlo . . 
Balfano, Jacomo 
Baptist, del Plombo 
Bellini, Giovanni 
Le Brun 

Calliari, P. Veronese 
The Carachi . 
Corregrio . . , 

Dan. da Vol terra 
Diepembeck . 

Guido . 



Giovanni da Udine 
•Taq. Jordaens 
Luca Giordano 
Julio Romano 

Lan franc . . . 
Leonardo da Vinci 
Lucas Van Leyden 









































































( 22 ) 
Balance of celehrafed Painter s.^-^Coniinuei. 








Alicliacl Aug. linoiiarolti 





JJklichaei dc Carava^io . 









Otho Vcnius . . . 





Palma, veccliio . . . 




Palma, jun 





Parmcgiano .... 





Paul Veronese . . . 





Fr. Penni, il fattor . . 




Picrino del \'aga . . 





IMetro da Cortona . . 





JNctro Perugino . . 





i^olid. de Caravagio . . 




Pordenonc .... 










Poussln . . , ■. , 





Priniaticlo .... 





I?aphacl Santio . . . 





Kcmbrandt .... 










Fr. Salviati . ; . . 





Le Sueur 










Pictro Testa .... 

1 1 



Tintoretto .... 




















Thaddco Zucclara . 





Frcdcrico Zucchtro . 






BAR t3 

Mr. Richardson has taken this Idea, and applied it to 
form a judgment of a picture or composition, by dividing 
the parts of painting in a similar manner, and determining 
in what proportion any performance possesses them. These 
preserved for future inspection, may serve, not only as a 
register of such a master's skill, but also of the spectator's 
judgment J which, if it alters materially on review at a 
distant period, mav lonlirm or adjust his critical principles. 

Such a register of our public exhibitions by a person of 
judgment, would determine the progress of candidates for 
public applause in a regular manner, and might occasionally 
afl'ord to artists a hint of falling-otf, or of improvement om 
such or such principles. Sec. 

Balanck o/' a figure. Is an idea that needs no explana- 
tion ; it is part of Attitude, w hich see. 

BALUSTER, small columns, or pillars of wood, stone, 
tec. used on terraces or tops of buildings for ornament, and 
ho support railing; when continued, they form i\ balustrade. 

BAMBOCHIADE, a term rarely used in England, sig- 
nifies a kind of grotesque, ignoble, fantastical stvle of paint- 
ing; a kind o{' car'uatura : it is named from Peter f-'au 
Laar, a good Dutch painter, who was surnamed Bamlochio, 
and who delighted in such capricious fantasies. The hu- 
mour of the British nation, as combined and heightened by 
Hogarth, ha-^ given occasion to many unskilful imitators to 
substitute wildne?s of fancy for wit, and excessive caricature 
for humour, to the great prejudice of the public taste 
and morals. 

BARBAROUS is understood as contrary to whatever is 
refined, of good taste, and excellent. The barbarism of 
the middle ages is notorious : the Gothic manner is barba- 
rous, as it is void of that regulated symmetry and order, 
which appcufi in the antique. Whatever is in choice, 


24 B A T 

liican and low, capricious, unnatural, contorted or deform- 
ed, is barbarous. Whatever is misapplied, or improperly 
introduced, is so far barbarous. 

The best remedy for barbarism is a diligent study of the 
antique, whose permanent canons meet the applause of siic- 
cessive ages, while temporary taste is forgotten for its bar- 
barity, however it may sway the opinion of its contempo- 

BASE is taken in much the same idea as barbarous; for 
what is ignoble and unelcvated, both in style and subject. 

Base of a column, or pedestal, the lower part of it. 
■ In design everv figure and object should have its hase^ 
whereon it may be supposed to stand, and whereon it actu- 
ally would stand, if the composition were reduced from 
perspective to a simple plan : this ought always to be at- 
tended to, in grouping-, as well as in single figures. 

BAS-RlilLIEF, or Basso-uelikvo, is a kind of sculp- 
ture related to alto-relievo ; but, wherein the projection of 
the figures from the back ground, is by no means equally 
prominent : they being kept nearer to the plane of the 
ground. When a bas-relief is very little raised, it requires 
a peculiar and strong light to see it in perfection. See 

BATTLE PiKcu, is a name given among painters to a 
picture representing a skirmish, combat, soldiers in warlike 
movements, &;c. 

Fire and animation form the principal and distlr.tiuish- 
ing characteristic of this class of pictures ; whic.ii, how- 
ever, at first sight, It may be thought to delight in sub- 
jects unpleasing, and perhaps too melancholv for the canvas; 
yet, by the management, vi\acitv, and vigour of some 
painte^^•, possesses nuiiiy attractive ingredients. Nothing 
rec^uircs, ur better admits excellent management of light, 
5 .sprightly 

B E A -2$ 

sprightly and lively effect, and that kind of rapidity, where 
high finishing yields to spirited touches. 

Battle is among those subjects not to be accurately in- 
vestigated by the general rules of composition ; the indis- 
pensable multitude of figures, the tumult, the confusion, 
the clouds of dust, the streams of gore, the extravagant 
exertions of men fighting for their lives, of others dying, 
the plunder of the dead, the horrors of carnage, require 
the most vivid expression ; and whatever best expresses 
them is to be chosen, although it may not perfectly coin- 
cide with the usual precepts of art. 

Only those can paint battles justly, who have been used 
to fight them : an employment not commonly supposed 
congenial with the polite arts. 

BEAUTIFUL, in the arts, signifies whatever in nature 
is most perfect and complete ; especially, in those objects 
which our train of thinking leads us to suppose are more 
eminently beautiful. Nothing is more vague than the ideas 
of most persons on what is beautiful ; nor is it easy to pro- 
pose regulations which shall produce beauty, though it is 
common for many persons to unite in opinion of what is 
not beautiful ; and hence perhaps we may partly account 
(without recurring to the charge of ill-nature) for that 
disposition to find fault rather than to praise, of which ex- 
amples are not wanting among critics. 

The kinds of beauty are various ; some are positively so 
in themselves, as being adapted to our natural senses and 
faculties : such is the beauty of natural objects, the sun, 
the moon, the stars, according to their brightness : such 
are certain natural colours, the azure of the heavens, the 
verdure of the plains, the hues of certain flowers, &c. 
These are positively beautiful in the opinion of all mankind, 

DiCT. Edit. 7. - E yot 

a6 B E A 

yet all mankind do not agree when these same colours are 
compounded in a beautiful face: for the swarthy Asiatic 
thinks such a composition cold, and the negro thinks it 
disagreeable ; nor is it more pleasant to the copper- coloured 
American, however it may delight the European. That 
beauty therefore is most beautiful in our esteem, whose 
qualities are nearest related to ourselves. 

Prejudice has so great a share in our ideas of beauty, that 
it is hardly possible to compose beauty that all shall admire, 
It was not therefore without reason the ancients praised that 
statue of PoLYCLETES, called the Canon ; to which no one 
could add, or from which no one could diminish, for the 
better ; but then, this was beauty only for that character, 
however harmonious its parts might be, however accordant, 
or however animated. 

There is a positive kind of beauty in the richness of ma- 
terials, when there is little orlto beauty in their application: 
there is, on the contrary, a beauty arising from the happy 
arrangement of very ordinary materials. In many orna- 
ments beauty is very variable, and may without detriment 
be changed, and beauty of other kinds substituted. 

Beauty in the arts, is the source of pleasure : and is 
either elevated, or natural. The first, when whatever is 
most uncommonly perfect, is happily assembled with har- 
monious and corresponding beauty, and nobly applied : the 
second, when what wc see, is beautiful, in imitation of 
what we are used to see of the same kind. A capital pic- 
ture may be thought a beauty of the first class ; while a 
picture by a good master, though not a phoenix, may yet be 
a handsome representation of nature. 

To this kind of beauty contribute (i.) the absence of 

apparent deformity : (2.) the making the best use of the 

ingredients introduced, putting them in the best places, 

4 according 

B I R 27 

according to their importance, and enabling them to exert 
their full powers on the spectator. In elevated beauty 
Rafaelle has long been acknowledged eminent. 

A very considerable mean ot acquiring beauty, is a stu- 
dious intimacy with what is most beautiful ; an avoiding of 
impure, gross, trivial, and false ideas; and of whatever 
debases the mind; for such ivill eventually debilitate the 

Beautiful forms must be chosen among the antique: 
beautiful colouring from nature : beautiful composition 
from the studies of great masters, and those accidental oc- 
currences which happen from time to time among society ; 
beautiful light and shade may be assisted by the camera 

Beautiful is metaphorically used to signify that which 
has served to produce beauty, as we say such an one pos- 
sesses a beautiful pencil, a beautiful tool, chisel, graver, &c. 

BIRD'S-EYE VIEW, in perspective, is a species of view, 
in which the eye of the spectator is supposed to be very greatly 
exalted above the horizontal levd of the objects he surveys ; 
as from the steeple of a church, &c. a spectator may be said 
to have a Bird's-eye view of a town, or demesnes below 
him, so that he may be said to look down upon them. 
Thus, with regard to a building, he may see several courts 
one behind another, by looking over the roof of the edifice. 
This artificial view affords an opportunity of shewing at the 
same time, the plan and distributiop of an extensive subject ; 
together with the elevation and effect of its more important 
erections. The eye being placed in a station so much higher 
than usual, may be supposed to inspect a proportionately 
extensive range of objects. This accommodation is very 
useful in representing fortifications, palaces, gardens, &c. 
The perspective principles required in treating a Bird's-eye 
V. 2 view 

aS B O L 

view, are not foreign from those already given ; the very 
great height of the horizontal line being the chief difference. 

BLACK and WHITE is pretty much synonimous with 
Chiaro Oscuro, both in its general principles, and in the 
application of the term. 

BLIND made of tissue paper (or of other thin paper, 
sometimes oiledj is necessary to engravers, to regulate the 
light by which they work. It is a thin square frame of 
light wood, fitted to the window before which it is placed, 
resting at the bottom on the table on which the engraver 
works, or on the window-sill : it is held at the top by a string 
from the upper part of the window, which by its length 
proportions the inclination of tlie blind to the window, as 
wanted. This square frame has two or three threads which 
cross it internally, from corner to corner, and support the 
tissue-paper, which goes over them, and whose edges are 
pasted to the square frame. The use of this Blhid is, to 
adjust the light which enters the window to the plate, and 
by the effect of the white paper the plate becomes as it were 
whitened, and the hght is rendered much more steady, than 
it would be if subjected to the effects of flying clouds, and 
other reflections, &c. By this contrivance the work on the 
plate is better seen, and the eyes of the engraver are greatly 
favoured. To answer the same purpose, when the light 
■worked by is that of a candle, a thin paper blind is interposed 
between the candle and the plate, which not only whitens 
the light, but prevents the effects of the dancings of the 
flame from being injurious to the sight. To work by candle- 
light without a Blind, would be to risque the injury of 
that invaluable member ihe eye. 

BOLD is a term expressive of that kind of management 
in painting, when, without labour or pains, the artist 


B R I 29 

touches In his eSect in a rapid and striking manner ; not 
staying, for instance, to smoothen or soften his colours, 
to melt them, as it were, into each other; but by well-ap- 
plied touches, and a happy tone of colours, he supersedes 
tb€ necessity of repeated applications. 

All parts of a piece may not be bold : for boldness is the 
result of inequality, which inequality is itself the result of 
contrivance and skill ; thus, while some parts are flat, or 
soft, or undistinguished, as being inferior ; the principal 
is bold, firm, vigorous, distinct, and attractive, apparently 
the effect of happy luck ; while indeed it is the production 
of judgment and intelligence. 

Very high finishing is apt to injure boldness, as well in 
drawings, as in paintings ; which is one reason wherefore 
the sketches of some masters please us better than their 
more laboured pieces. Both boldness, and finishing, 
should be regulated by the nature of the composition, its 
proposed situation, &c. 

BRICK-COLOURED, is spoken of carnations, whose tone 
of colouring is too red, too much mingled with vermilion, 
or other ill-chosen red colour, which imparts an unpleasing 
brick-like tone to it. This kind of colouring is no less to 
be avoided than any other extreme ; it is impossible to fancy 
a figure to be flesh and blood, wherein this tone prevails. 

BRILLIANT is spoken of a composition whose effect 
is striking and lively; resulting from a happy management 
of light, of colours, of expression, and of the whole 

Brilliancy is a very desirable quality in a picture ; and 
when in union with other requisites, gives a forcible termi- 
nation, and success to art. In endeavouring to obtain bril- 
liancy, many artists run into glare, or gaudy effect, which, 
however it may amuse the ignorant, will never please the 


3© B R O 

wcll-inforincd. BrHliancy in a picture should not resemble 
a number of speckling lights like the stars, but a luminary 
like the moon, at least, if we cannot reach the splendour of 
the sun. The fact is, that one considerable lioht is more 
attractive to the eye than a number of twinkling unintelli- 
gible spots. 

It should always be remembered, that brilliancy in pic- 
ture is different from that of nature; as the light coming 
from a certain quarter, and not being generally diffused by 
perpetual reflections, requires appropriate composition and 

Brilliant, is spoken of colours when they retain in 
perfection their proper hues : thus, two colours mingled 
together lessen each other's lirilUancy ; three colours lessen 
brilliancy still more ; and every colour added, more still. 
But though each colour loses of its proper brilliancy, yet 
the result of the whole in the picture may be brilliant ^ if it 
be well employed ; and the picture may be a brilliant pic- 
ture, while the colours, individually considered, are broken 
and mingled. 

BROAD is a term applied principally to effects arising 
from licrht and shade : the breadth of these articles is of 


the utmost importance. This term is also applied to other 
instances, as broad draperies, ?. e. draperies not divided 
into multiplied folds, whereby the masses and repose of a 
composition are disturbed ; or if (as in fine linen) the folds 
are numerous, yet they arc so treated as to form, by many 
folds, only one object; or an object of an agreeable tone, 
shape, &c. without subdividing the parts into such forms 
as may give the idea of cuts and gashes, and in consequence 
of constraint. 

The principles of breadth, as applied to light and shadow, 
are nearly related to those of Cluaro Oscuro, and may 


B K O 31 

generally be taken for an assemblage of tlie llglits in a 
piece, in such a judicious part of the composition, and with 
such combination, as that they may produce the most 
powerful effect; yet this effect cannot be produced, unless 
in like manner (or rather on a similar principle, but varied 
in its application) the shadows also are united, grouped, 
and situated, so as by their opposition to sustain the lights 
in their force and splendour. From breadth arises ihat 
vigorous attraction of the spectator's attention and regard, 
which in a manner prevents him from overlooking a picture, 
or passing it by without observation. 

It should seem that the simplest plan of producing breadth 
is to give the inferior parts, &c. of a composition no more 
than their due, but rather to keep them down, in order to 
heighten the principal and more important objects. 

BROKEN COLOURS are mixtures of colours to form 
accurate and judicious tints. This principle is of the greatest 
use in colouring: to break colours well, requires a good 
eyt and adequate practice. 

Colours may be considered in themselves as so many raw 
materials, few in number, and therefore whose exact ori- 
ginals in nature are few also. They are, consequently, 
adapted only to the successful imitation of those originals; 
but since there are innumerable other originals in nature, 
the artist endeavours, by mixture of pigments, to include 
them also in his imitation : this is one cause of breaking 
his colours. Another is, that even objects corresponding 
to his original and primary colours, are not throughout of 
the same tint, but by their liahts and shades diflTer very 
considerably ; and to imitate these differences requires a 
proportionate breaking of colours. Besides^ it is to be re- 
marked, that by the interference of its neighbours the 
colour of any object, or part of an object, is diversified, 


32 B R 

varied, intermixed, debased ; so that its rays never arrive 
It the eye pure, but sullied by accessory reflections. Add, 
likewise, the necessity of union and harmony with sur- 
rounding colours, so that the whole may be agreeable, and 
the necessity of moderating, or of heightening some or 
others; add also, that finishing is nothing more than the 
exact tone of colour incident to each part ', and it appears 
clearly, that the colours must be so intermingled and 
broken, that only a small portion of them retains its native 

This artifice, like all others, may be carried too far; and 
thereby the colours lose their energy and force, together 
■with their simplicity and purity. Colours too much mingled 
and confused never stand well ; besides that they are apt 
to become mealy by unnecessar)' teasing. 

BRONZE is a name given to figures cast of a mixed 
metal, in which copper has the chief proportion. Bronze 
is a very ancient invention, mauv of the best antique figures 
and ornaments being made of it. Bronze is very useful 
for casting of small figures ; but it is also capable of fur- 
nishing figures and groupcs of the largest size, such as 
equestrian statues, he. : these are sometimes cast all in one 
piece. This is a bold undertaking, and not without risk ; 
much oftener, • bronzes of magnitude are cast in separate 
parts, and the pieces are afterwards united. Bronze is of 
great use in subjects exposed to the air, the action of which 
it resists, as it is not liable to rust, or to many other injuries 
to which statues, 8cc. are subject. 

BROWN is a tone of colour to which some parts of 
pictures arc apt to fade after a time : this is certainly a great 
imperfection in the management of the colours. Pictures, 
originally too dark, can hardly fail of becoming brown in 
many of their demi-tints, and black in their shadows. Bad 


BUT 33 

colours not only become worse themselves, but spoil those 
they are combined v. ith. Genuine colours are therefore 
one mean of preventing; this brownness ; and a juclioous 
mixture of colours, friendly in their natures to each other, 
is another mean very proper to be attended to. Colours 
naturally become brown in time, if exposed to damps, S:^;. ; 
yet pictures painted clear at first ^ill last so a long time. 

BURNISHER is an instrument used by engravers, &c. ; 
it is made of steel, the point is lengthened, somewhat 
heart-shaped, rounded, and highly polished. This tool is 
used to snioothen the surface of a plate, to erase slight 
scratches, to take out light work, and for many other pur- 

BURNISHING is a mode of heightening the splendour 
of gold in the frames, &c. of pictures ; it is performed by 
careful rubbing with a dog's tooth, or other polishing in- 

Burnishing is used to polish and smoothen the super- 
fuics of copper-plates, to render them fit for the purposes of 
the engraver, Sec. ; but copper-plates intended for picture? 
need no burnishing. 

BUST, or BusTO, is a term applied in sculpture to the 
upper parts of a figure — a piece containing the head, shoul- 
ders, and chest: the arms are omitted. It may be thought 
to answer to a half-length in painting, 

BUTMENT, or Abutment; supporters,, or props, on 
or again-^t which the feet of arches rest. 

BUTTRESS, a kind of butment, built sometimes arcli- 
wisc, as to Gothic buildings; a mass of stone or brick- 
work, serving to prop or support buildings, walls. Sec. on 
the outside, where their great heiglit or weight req^uires. 
additional strength. 

V>iCT.Bdit.-. T CABINET 

34 CAM 

V>ABINET is understood of a collection of works of arf, 
disposed to advantage for inspection bv the curious. In 
this view, they are very agreeable recreations; as, by their 
variety and their excellencies, if judiciously selected and 
arranged, they aflbrd perpetual novelty and delight. They 
discover also the comparative excellence of art, at its various 
periods, its rise, or its decline ; or, of a master, if his 
works are sufficiently numerous : they assemble many arti- 
cles, which, if dispersed, might be lost and destroyed, oc 
be thought trivial, yet when collected together are worth 
preserving, and in this particular they are the libraries of 
art. They may also be thought to resemble libraries, in 
the opportunities they afford for study and improvement, 
since they offer the thoughts of other artists and their man- 
ners of treating subjects, by remarks upon which their 
excellencies and defects may be discovered, and either 
emulated or avoided. We might add, that perhaps a very 
brilliant hint may be taken from a crude idea of some 
former master ; or what has been attempted by one, may 
perhaps be perfected by another, who, w ithout the original 
Miggcstion, vould not have considered the subject. 

What it is which in England prevents the utility of cabi- 
net?, or precludes us from possessing a public cabinet, is 
not unworthy the attention of artists (especially younger 
nrtists), and of lovers of the :ins in general. 

Cabinet Pieces are those of proper size. See. to form 
part of sr.rh collections as usually compose cabinets. 

CAMERA OBSCUKA. 'J'hi«; example is closely allied 
to the principles advanced in Lr.<."rrRE I. second scries, 


■-'is^' .'■1 J ■. >A 





DICTIONAUY ol' AKI Ji;>:;i, 




Ji^rtndle Camera oMnra 

CAM 35 

and explains the reversion of external objects. Thus a is 
the counierjvirt of A, but reversed by passing through the 
crtvice ; b is' the couaterpari of B, ;ind c of C. 

This is also a very entertaining philosophical amusement. 
We shall, for the information of our readers, insert the 
most authentic manner of performing it, as it requires 
no further apparatus than merely a lens glass ia a scioptric 

I. The Camera Obscura, or darkened room, is 
any large room or chamber made as dark as possible, so as 
to exclude all light but that which is to pass through the 
hole and lens in the ball fixed in the window of the said 
room . 

The following particulars are to be attended to in this 
philosophical contrivance: 1st, That the lens be extremely 
^00(1, or free from any veins, blebs, &c. which may dis- 
tort and blemish the picture. 

sdly, That the lens be always placed directly against 
(he object whose picture you would have perfectly formed 
to contemplate ; for if the glass has any other position to 
the object, the image will be very imperfect, indistinct, and 

3dly, Care ought to be taken that the ball be sufficiently 
large, and the frame in which it is placed not too thick, 
that so there be sufficient room for turning the ball every 
v.ay, to take in as many objects as possible, and to render 
the use thereof most complete. 

4thly, The lens ought to be of a just magnitude or aper- 
ture; for, if it be too small, the image will be obscure, and 
the minute parts not visible at a distance for want of requi- 
site light. On the other hand, if the aperture be too large, 
the image will be confused, and become indistinct by too 
much light. 

F 2 ^thly, 

$6 CAM 

5thly, We ought not to attempt to exhibit a picture of 
objects in a dark room, unless the sun shines upon, or 
strongly illuminates the objects ; for mere daylight is not 
sufficient for this purpose ; the greatest beauty in this phe- 
nomenon being the exquisite appearance and contrast of 
light and shadows, none of which can appear but from an 
object placed in the sun-beams, without which every thing 
looks dark and dull, and makes a disagreeable figure. 

6thly, Therefore the window, or that s de of the room 
-svliere the scioptric ball is used, ought to louk towards that 
quarter directly upon which the sun shines, that so the illu- 
Diinated sides of objects may present themselves to the lens, 
and appear more glorious in the picture. 

ythly, Hence it is easy to iufer, that the best time of the 
day for this experiment is about noon, becau<e the sun- 
beams arc then strongest, and of course the picture most 
luminous and distinct : also, that a north window is the 
best, though for viewing the shadow* in greatest perfection 
an east or west window will answer the end best. 

8thly, As the image is formed only by the reflected rays 
of the sun, so due care should be taken that none of the 
sun's direct rays fall on the lens in the window ; for if they 
do, they will, by mixing with the former, greatly disturb 
the picture, and render it very confused ynd unpleasant to 

9thly, As white bodies reflect the incident rays most co- 
piously, and black ones absorb them most ; so to make ti>c 
picture most perfect it ought to be received upon a very 
white surface, as paper, a painted cloth, wall, fee. bonlered 
round with bkiek, that so the collateral rays which come 
from on eacli side the object may be stilled, and not sufJtreJ 
lo disturb the pkture by reflection. 


CAM 3t 

These iire necessary precautions for ihc ^iie ordering thf. 
various circiimptanccs ot this experiment. 

We shall tnumeriite the principal phenomeiia of the dark 
chamber. The first i.-;, that an exact and every way simi- 
lar image is formed of an exicrnal ohject} for pencils ot rays 
comino; from all points of the object will represent those 
points in such a manner and position as will be propor- 
tional and correspondent to their respective positions and 
distances in the object, so that the whole in the image shall 
bear an exact gimilituJc or likeness of the object in every 

The second phenomenon is, that the image will bear the 
same projjortion to the object, whether a line, superficies, 
or solid, as their di.itances from the glass respectively* 
lience the larger the focal distance from the glass, t)ie more 
ample will be the picture of the same object, but the less 
will be the space or compass of the plan or perspective 

The tlurd phenomenon i?, tliat the image or picture of 
the object is inverted 5 and this is not the eflect of the glass, 
but tile crossing of the ravs in the hole through which they 
pass into the room; for if a vcrv small hole were made in 
the window-shutter of a darkened rootn, the objects without 
would be all seen inverted, thf)se which come from the 
upper part of the object going to tlie lower part of the 
image, and vice versa. All that the glass does is to render 
the image distinct, bv converging the rays of every pencil 
to their proper focus in the picture, the position of each 
point being the same as before. 

The J'ourth phenomenon is the motion or rest of the several 
parts of the picture, according as those of the object are in 
either state. The reason of this is very obvious, and this 
it is that gives life and spirit to the palming and portraits of 


38 C A M 

nature, and is the only particular inimitable by art. And 
indeed a more critical idea may he formed of any movement 
in the picture of a darkened room, than from observing the 
motion of the object itself: for instance, a mun walking in 
a picture appears to have an undulating motion, or to rise 
up and sink down every step he takes ; whereas nothing of 
this kind is observed in the man himself, as viewed by the 
bare eye. 

The Jifth phenomenon \% the coloi/ring of the optic pic- 
ture: every piece of imagery has its proper tints and co- 
lours, and those always heightened and rendered more in- 
tense than in the object; so that in this respect it is an 
improvement on nature itself, whereas the art of the greatest 
master can only pretend to a distant resemblance and faint 
imitation. The reason why tlie image is coloured is, be- 
cause the several points of the object reflecting several sorts 
of coloured rays to the glass, those rays will give a repre- 
sentation of those several points respectively, and in their 
own colour, and therefore in those of the object; but those 
colours will be heightened, because they are crowded into a 
less space. 

The sixth phenomeuon is the Chiaro oscuro, that is, the 
intensity of light and shadow in the picture; and this, as 
well as the colourino; is creatlv hcio;htened above what it is 
in the object, by reason of the lesser area of the picture. 
Here every light and every shade is expressed in its proper 
decree, from the most brilliant to the most black, inclusive 
of a wonderful varictv in the several parts, arising from the 
difloront situations of the several parts of the object, and 
the diflerent angles of reflection. A just imitation of nature 
in the distribution of light and shadows is perhaps the most 
diflicuit part of the art of painting, and on which its greatest 
pcifvciion depends. 

N. B. 

CAM 39 

N. B. If an object be placed just twice the focal distance 
from the glass without, the image will be formed at the 
same distance from the glass within the room, and conse- 
quently will be equal in magnitude to the object itself. 

No. 2, is meant merely as a hint to explain the effects of 
a lens behind the first ; for if the rays passing through the 
first are inverted, by passing through a second they will be 
re-inverted, if it be placed at a just distance with regard 
to the focus of the first glass. Thus the head of the cross 
Aj proceeds regularly to B, crosses the focus C, and is by 
the glass D again transmitted through the second focus E, 
till it is erect at F. On this principle, variously apjilied, 
are telescopes constructed, though it io generally omitted in 
the camera obscura. 

Portable Camera Obscura is constructed in the form 
of a book, and, if nicely wrought, need hardly exceed the 
dimensions of a folio. The parts are held in their places 
by little hooks, &c. when standing and in use, but fold on 
each other when removed. The right side of the box folds 
on the bottom, then the left side on the right; the looking- 
glass, its stands, and the lens being token away, the top is 
folded together, and then the whole top folds against the 
back, and the back folds on tlie rest of the machine, and 
forms the other part of the hook. A place for the looking- 
glass, stands, Sec. is easily made in any part of the book. 
The curtain should be made of strong stuff: the darker iu 
colour the better. The top of the box contains the lens, 
and the use of the looking-glass is to reflect to the lens the 
objects desired to be inspected : it is adjusted by n^.eans of a 
strinsi; held in the hand till it gives a perfect representation, 
which is transmitted through the lens. 

The spectator must stand with his back to those objects 
which he desires to view, and must be careful that the cur- 

40 CAP 

tain totally excludes the light. This rrprcsentation o^ the 
objecU being very well defined on the white paper at the 
bottom of the box, they may easily be outlined with ablacli 
lead pencil : a print or picture placed before the looking-- 
glass may be copied by this method. A variation of this 
principle is used in taking likcncs?cs by shade. 

CAPITAL is a, character given to performances whose 
merit is of the highest standard. 

It may well be supposed that the number of capital pieces 
in any department of art must be very small ; few masters 
possessing sufficient abilities for the production of such 
works. That many artists excel in some particular depart- 
ment, w hose talents in others are but moderate, is certain j 
thus, one may design in a noble and grand style, w^hile his 
colourino; or management is but indilTerent ; another mav 
colour to admiration, but without suO^cient dexterity in 
design; a picture may be capital in one respect, yet not be 
a capital picture, because of its obyious deficiencies in other 

While the extent of art is so various, and human abilities 
so limited, we ought to acknowledge merit wherever wc 
find If, and to do it justice, be it in what department it 
mav; therefore without; hesitation we admit such or such a, 
master to be a capital designer, colourist, Sec. although 
perliaps his works might bear improvenuiit in other parti- 
culars. To be distinguished in any respect is hoiiourablc; 
united e>vcellcn(C is the lot of few. 

Capital, the uppermost niembcr of ^ column, whi.cK 
is as a eroun or h,ead thereto, placed immediately over the 
shaft, and under the architrave : no column is complete 
without a capital, w hieh has a distinguishing character for 
each order, Tuscan and Doric capitals cousi^l of mould- 

ii)irs J 

CAR 41 

Sngs ; Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite capitals, of leaves 
and other ornaments. 

CARICATURA signifies a likeness of any person or 
thing, loaded, exaggerated, heightened, and rendered gene- 
rally ridiculous. 

CarIcatura is the extreme or excess of character. Every 
person has some particular feature or proportion, which 
may be termed proper or peculiar to himself: thi>, rendered 
yet more conspicuous and forcible, and divested of those 
more agreeable and general parts which in the person him- 
self qualify this peculiarity, becomes caricatura. A long 
nose in nature, becomes in caricatura a proboscis ; a cast 
pf the eye is downright squinting; a prominent chin is an 
excellent object for caricatura, which turns it into a penin- 
sula; and, in short, by travestying the countenance, yet 
so as to preserve a resemblance by which it may be appro- 
priated, it improves upon the saying which infofms us, 
that *' an inch in a man's nose is a great deal." The defects 
of the figure, stooping, unequal length of the legs, lame- 
ness, &c. are subjects for caricatura. After all, it is but 
poor amusement (and not by ai^y means improving to an 
urtist) to study and expose the defects of our neighbours; 
and, indeed, is only admissible as satire on those whose 
behaviour deserves it, and who 

" Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne. 
Are touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone." 

CARNATION is the same as naked, or flesh ; but is 
spoken generally of the whole of that kind, not of any par- 
ticular member. For the principles of carnations, vide the 
Compendium of Colours, Sec. 

CARTOON is a coloured drawing made on paper, the 
same size as a work to be executed. Cartoons are generally 

DiCT. Edit. 7, G ^ used 

42 CAS 

used as originals for tapestry, large painted windows, mo- 
saics, and other pictures of the same nature; where the 
artists who condiict them require an exact model of what 
they are to produce, which is to be their guide, as well io. 
effect as in proportion, colours, &c. 

In England, when the Cartoons are mentioned, it gene- 
rally means those formerly at Hampton Court, but now at 
Buckingham House, which are painted by Raffaelle 
(principally with his own hand), and which, being taken 
on board a vessel as they were sending to be copied in 
tapestry, were afterwards brought to England, and now form 
part of the royal collection. They arc among Raffaelle's 
best works, and are superior to any other collection of his 
works, except the Papal at Rome. 

CARTOUCHES are ornaments adapted to contain in- 
scriptions, mottos, arms, and other devices. They have 
acquired this appellation by being generally representations 
of paper, &c. rolled, folded, or returned at the ends. 

CARYATIDES are female figures placed instead of co- 
lumns. Though such figures are certainly the work of the 
sculptor, yet the term seems rather to belong to architec- 
ture : when figures of men are used, the order is termed 
Persian. Vide the Lectures on Architecture, p. 48. 

CAST of a statue, figure, &c. is obtained by pouring 
into a mould a quantity of fluid metal, which, when cold, 
retains the form of the mould : casts of plaster of Paris are 
obtained on the same principle. The process is common 
among us. 

Casts may be obtained from medals, gems, 8cc. without 
any damage to the original. 

Cast is employed to denote the order and set of the folds 
in drapery: when the foldings of a drapery are natural, 
well distributed, easy, characteristic, and harmonious, such 

a drapery 
4 ■ ' 

C E t 43 

a drapery Is well cast. In using a lay figure, when theJ 
artist cannot adjust a drapery to his mind, it is better to 
hazard another cast by a fresh motion of the limbs, than 
to fatigue the fancy by too long-continued endeavours to 
amend what is faulty : nevertheless, a ready eye may make 
considerable improvements on a cast of drapery, which 
accident has produced in a state of forwardness, but has not 

CATAFALQUE, in Italian Catafalco, is a temporary 
erection, used in popish countries during the service for the 
repose of the dead, or \\\e funeial ceremony. It is the re- 
presentation of a sepulchre (or kind of meme7ito morijy 
placed under arches, canopies, 8cc. decorated with emble- 
matical figures, virtues, genii, and other ornaments of 
architecture, painting, and sculpture. They are too ex- 
pensive to be used except on occasion of royal funerals, 8cc. 

CAULICOLI, little twists or volutes under the flower 
on the abacus in the Corinthian capital : they represent 
the twisted tops of the acanthus stalks ; are called also 

CEILING, PAINTED, has a very rich and magnificent 
effect when well conducted ; contributing greatly to the 
finishing and decoration of a noble apartment ; and also, 
when judiciously composed, to the rem.edying of defects in 
the architecture; as in the ceiling of a church at Naples, 
which being evidently too low for the other dimensions of 
the fabric, was so happily managed by Luca Giordano, 
with such lightness and effect, as to seem many feet higher 
than it really is. 

The principles of ceiling-painting are conformable to the 
precepts of perspective, and depend on the simple idea that 
the work is to be seen from below ; consequently the figures 
and objects introduced must be foreshortened upwards, 

G z The. 

44 C E N 

The choice of attitudes, therefore, should include only 
such as admit of gracefuhiess when so foreshortened ; and, 
as lightness is indispensable to ceiling-pieces, the figures 
should, as it were, seem suspended in the air, and, as if 
hovering over the room, they were seen without the inter- 
position of the ceiling. 

It has been by some painters thought proper to insert on 
ceilings very extensive compositions, containing even hun- 
dreds of figures : this, liowever, seems erroneous, when 
we reflect that long before a spectator can distinguish 
one half of them, his neck will become weary, and totally 
forego the other half. Easy and simple subjects, not too 
much crowded, but facile of comprehension, are best adapted 
to this kind of composition. 

CELL, in an ancient temple, is the enclosed space within, 
the walls. 

CEMENT for mending of pictures is sometimes thus 
composed : two parts of new yellow wax, one part of nut, 
or of linseed oil, and one part of brown okcr, or some other 
earthy colour, the whole melted and mixed together. It 
serves to replace the priming, where that is worn off; also 
to fill up crevices, and other openings or damages, which 
it does very smoothly, after w hich the surface must be care- 
fully painted over. Sometimes the cracks, Sec. in wood 
are filled up with white lead, mixed with strong glue by 
way of cement. 

CENOTAPH is a monumental erection to the memory 
of some illustrious deceased ; usually ornamented with alle- 
gorical Hgiires and inscriptions allusive to his virtues, acr 
tions, hcQ. The permanence of a cenotaph distinguishes 
it from a catafalque, as its not containing the body of the 
deceased distinguishes it from a tomb. 


C H A 45 

CERTAIN, is spoken of the outlines or contours when 
they arc not equivocal or indetcrmiualc, but just and natural. 
It must be acknowledged that the old masterr, in general, 
in order to manifest their skill in design, gave so much 
certaintv to the contours of their figures, as to render them 
hard and dry, a fault necessary to be avoided, being very 
prejudicial to union and to eflfcct : certainty is the just 
medium between this hardness and unmeaning softness of 

CHARACTER is that distinguishing and appropriate 
appearance of objects, whereby they are known to the spec- 
tator : this principle being of universal application and 
notice, and founded on natural distinctions, deserves the 
most intiniate acquaintance of the artist. 

Character, as it relates to the human figure, is a prin- 
cipal object of study. 

Character is as extensive as objects to be represented, 
and exacts much attention and remark. The characters of 
animals may be conceived of as including their natural dis- 
positions. Thus, a sheep must not be represented devour- 
ing a wolf, nor a sparrow attacking an eagle ; but through- 
out pictures of animals, each animal should be em- 
ployed as nature would dictate. Character should also dis- 
tinguish the several kinds of coats, furs, &c. of animals. 
The spots and skins of cows, &c, differ from those of 
horses, as horses do from asses, or even from themselves 
in a wild state, The furs of foxes, rabbits, &c. are dif- 
ferent from those of cats and of dogs ; and thus character 
runs throughout the whole race of quadrupeds, even in these 
minor particulars. It is not necessary to remark the cha- 
racteristic forms of animals, since that is obvious, and no 
person possessing the blessing of sight can be deceived on 
the subject, 


46 C H A 

Character also pervades even inanimate nature; the 
water of a river diflfers in character from that of the sea, 
from that of a lake having no motion, from that of a 
ditch, and from that of a morass ; also from ice, and from 
the sea in a storm. The character of mountains varies from 
that of plains; and frequently that of theii' summits varies 
from that of their sides of their bottoms. 

The characters of buildings vary greatly. Stone is un- 
like brick in other respects beside its colour, as are mud- 
walls, or plaster, or rough-cast. A thatched roof is not 
the same in appearance as tiles, or slate, even if we abstract 
the colour ; but when we add the distinctions arising from 
colour, light and shade, and other incidents, the character 
of each becomes yet more specifically separated and unlike. 

The character also of draperies is often totally different ; 
witness woollen cloth — in broadcloths, camlets, stuffs, 
bombazines, and otlier woollen manufactures ; silk also — 
in lutestrings, which can hardly be mistaken for satins, 
modes, &c. &c. ; linens — in cambricks, table-linen. Sec. 
down to sail-cloth; and so in many others: — where we 
observe, that not only silk is different from woollen, but 
even' from itself in another state, and under the form of 
another commodity. 

The character of precious stones forms a distinction 
from all the foregoing : their splendour, their brilliancy^ 
their richness of colour, is peculiar to themselves. Among 
these, each is distinct from others > and he who should con- 
found a ruby with an amethyst or a sapphire, would be 
thought disqualified for the superintendence of the mines of 
Golconda, however he might labour in exploring them as a 
slave ; as an artist who should paint a diamond black, would 
be rival to him who should dive for diamonds and dig for 


C H A 47 

Thus It is evident, by parity of reason, that throughout 
the whole dominion of nature there is a diversity of ciiaijc- 
ter and appearance : to be acquaiiiied with this diversity is 
no easy matter, nor is it rhe present business of these pages 
to explain it; it is sufficient if they hint at its extent and 

The Character of an artist is understood of that kind 
of management and coniluct which appears in his pieces ; 
whether in his composiiion, his ordonnance, his style, or 
his handling. 

The character of his mind shews itself in the elevation of 
his thoughts, the enthusiasm of his invention, his judgment 
and disposition : the character of his hand displays itself iti 
the colouring, the touch, &c. These two kinds of charac- 
ter enable us to determine, long after a master's decease, 
whether a picture be of his hand, an original, or a copy, 
an imitation, or authentic ; though it must be owned deceit 
has so well imitated verity on many occasions, that not 
every critic is able to detect the imposture. Deceit is, how- 
ever, so far laudable in the arts of design, that to impose 
on a capable judge shews no small talents in the artist; 
though, it must be confessed, they seem somewhat mis- 

CHARGED is used as synonimous to overloaded, 
strained, &c. ; but is generally understood to be, the con- 
sequence of desire in an artist to impart a certain somewhat 
of greatness to his work. Thus, the subjects painted by 
Annibalk Carrachj, in the Farnese Gallery, though in 
many respects admit able, are yet thought by artists to be 
charged; for, painted from models, the painter has 
endeavoured to give his figures a certain something of ad- 
vantage which his models had not, and thereby he has often 
exceeded the modesty of nature. 


48 CHI 

It must however be confessed, tliat too close ah adherence 
to a model, even in a portrait, is not altogether an adhe- 
rence to nature. There is a difference between duty and 
servitude. To be bound down to imitation of what is be- 
fore the eye, is a constraint, a slavery, for which the work 
will certainly suffer; but judgment must determine how far 
deviation may be carried. Bad painters charge their works, 
even their portraits, through ignorance and misapplication ; 
that kind of charge in which good artists indulge them- 
selves, is the result of sound discretion and of science, 
assisted by the decision, firmness, and spirit, of a masterly 
hand; their object is to elevate the character represented, 
by omitting or softening the minuticB of their subject on 
one hand ; and on the other, by doing ample justice to 
whatever is good or noble in it, ";eneralizin2; the traits, and 
rendering the whole as agreeable as may be. 

The abuse of charge is not confined to the human figure, 
but is very demonstrable in the trees of many landscape- 
painters, who augment the branches, 8cc. till the stem is 
ready to sink under their weight. 

Colours may be said to be charged when they are too 
brown, too black, too white, &c. for the sake of ac- 
quiring a specious kind of force; which in fiict ought to 
proceed from other sources, and to be attained by other 

CHIARO OSCURO, is an Italian expression ; In itself 
signifying, merely light and shadow ; but used among 
artists to signify the science of managing light and shadow 
to the greatest advantage, in picturesque composition. The 
term is at present so familiar that it may be considered as 
adopted English. 

When a painter gives to his figures great relief and force, 
distinguishing with propriety and advantage the objects in- 

CHI 4^ 

eluded In his composition, introducing the most agreeable 
and just lights and shadows, so as to form masses of con- 
siderable extent and breadth, and not trivial divisions and 
subdivisions ; such a painter is said to understand the Chiaro 
Oscuro : or, to produce a great effect ; which is the result 
of Chiaro Oscuro. Chiaro Oscuro, therefore, Is the art 
of distributing the combinations of lights and shadows, 
which naturally accompany objects of «very kind, not 
merely with respect to the objects themselves (i. e. not 
merely as they would fall in reality, without further thought); 
but so as to give the greatest life, force, and strength, to 
the total of the picture, when surveyed as an aggregate, or 
collection of parts. 

This artifice, though the most, powerful attendant of 
art, was long entirely unknown among arti-;ts ; those only 
who studied colouring in its principles, made any consider- 
able advances toward it; and among the Venetian school 
we must look for its origin, which at length was matured, 
and regulated, by the happy genius of Rubens ; ever since 
whose time, this system has been esteemed the basis of 

The painter, working on a plane superficies, can Impart 
the ideas of roundness and relief (not to say of motion) to 
any object, only by an accurate and careful gradation of 
lints ; by the judicious opposition, and heightenlngs, of 
the lights, and their corresponding shadows. Among such 
gradations may be reckoned, the demi-tints, glazings, 
reflections, and accidents ; together with smart touches of 
lights, or of shadows, as either may be wanted; or as 
either light or shadow advances before other parts ; thereby 
causing recession, interval, or distance. 

The chief principles of Chiaro Oscuro are collection, 
and MUTUAL support ; a kind of discipline, not unlike the 

DiCT. Edit. 7. u arrangement 

50 CHI 

arrangement of an army ; wherein every corps is collected 
and appointed to its place, and the united strength of the 
whole augmented by principle, and method, This may be 
said to distinguish an army from a mob, though equally 
numerous ; so may judicious appointment of light and 
shadow, without any greater quantity of either, or reinforce' 
tnent, but merely by management, produce effects infinitely 
beyond unregulated application of the same materials. 

A picture may be supposed divided into four parts ; to 
have two of those parts in middle tint, or slight shade; one 
part dark or strong shndow, and one part enlightened or 
resplendent. It is evident, that if these parts were sub- 
divided and intermingled, they would no otherwise relieve 
each other than do chequers at an ale-house door j whereas, 
if the relative parts are harmonized and assembled, i. e. 
. shade to shade, and light to light, they form by their union 
a powerful combination, whose effect is to attract the eye to- 
ward itself. Perhaps, it is not too much refining to say, that 
this idea is allied to the nature and properties of the eye, 
as the organ of vision. Is the eye attracted by a dead, fiat, 
uniformity of colour ? Certainly no : nor is it gratefully 
affected by intense black, relieving in some part this flat- 
ness ; after a single inspection it is satisfied. But it is cer- 
tain, that a bright light (as a white wall for instance) 
attracts the eye, very powerfully, much more powerfully than 
any thing yet mentioned ; I say the eye is startled, as it 
■were, by brilliant white placed on a dead flat ; this is 
heightened, by supposing the intense black brought near to, 
and placed by the side of, the brilliant white, which by 
such opposition becomes very greatly increased in its force, 
and effect. If force was the only requisite in Chiaro Oscuro, 
this supposition miijht explain the matter; but as, beside 
force, harmony is necessary, we have to add to our suppo- 


C II I 51 

sltion certain gradatory Intervals between the splendor of 
the white, and the depth of the black; these, by temper- 
ing and aceomniodating the extremes (i. c. white and black), 
render them more pleasing ; the offensive suddenness, and 
rapidity, of the transition ceases, and a more agreeable, 
and ameliorated, effect ensues. 

That scattered lights have no force, appears from many 
objects in nature. Titian's comparison was a bunch of 
grapes : others might be named ; for instance, a flock of 
sheep scattered over a field, produce no effect ; but collected 
into one body they compose with more force, by forming a 
broader light ; or even as a more considerable object. 

Therefore we conclude that a judicious collection of lights- 
into one assemblage, or principal union (in some part of 
which union we suppose the focus of strength and 
effect) this collection opposed by a similar union of shadow, 
whereby its effect is heightened, and rendered more piquant i 
these extremes moderated, allied, harmonized, and melted, 
by a friendly interference of gradations, demi-tinls, and, as 
it were, neuters, form the first principle of Chiaro Oscuro. 

As to the SUPPORT of light and shadow, it may be ob- 
served, that because one principal centre of light or of 
shadow is indispensable, inferior, subordinate, and less 
conspicuous introductions of either are not forbidden ; 
but, provided they are subservient to, and connected in 
nature, relation, and degree, with the principal, they sup- 
port such principal no less by.jheir alliance, than the op- 
ponent masses do by their contrast. Moreover, they re- 
lieve the eye, they induce it to continue its researches, to 
wander, as it were, over the picture, inspecting every part 
by turns, according to its consequence, yet without lessen- 
ing the dignity of the principal. They may, perhaps, be 
aptly compared to a retinue of servants waiting on some 

H 2 grea.t 

5* ^ C H T 

great man ; they indicate an importance, a superiority In 
tJieir principal, correspondent to our ideas of his exahation 
and honour; but should any of them forget his place and 
assume airs of mock majesty, we are displeased^ and ex- 
claim against such impropriety, as insufferable, and inde- 

The effect of a picture excellent in Chiaro Oscuro, 
should be (at a distance too great to determine its subject) 
an agreeable mixture or correspondence of forms and lights : 
at a nearer approach, it should attract the eye by its force 
and powerful relief, so as to fix the spectator's attention, and 
to induce him to investigate and examine its composition, 
and management. This property may be greatly attained 
by the principles of force. But a picture should also be so 
artfully conducted, that the spectator should hardly be 
able to quit the inspection of it, but should, without weari- 
ness, or satiety, dwell on the parts whose happy regulation 
entertains his inspection : this is the result of harmony 
and intelHo-ence in treating the Chiaro Oscuro, of which it 
is also the perfection. 

According to the differences of compositions, will be the 
treatment they require : every Recipe for their conduct 
is absurd and idle. In general it may be noted, that a body 
of light on either extremity of the picture, is injurious 
(especially to the other extremitv), and that it cannot be 
effectively supported by shadow on all sides. On the other 
hand, if the centre of light be in the very centre of the 
picture, it renders art too much visible, and as it were ma- 
thematical ; consequently, ungraceful and stiff. The best 
way is, to let the light fall most strongly near, not in the 
middle of the picture, to let it catch, and be diversified 
chiefly round about its principal union, to embellish this 
brightness by placing the depth of the shadows near these 



central lights, and to keep the extremities of the piece void 
of intense darks, or of splendid lights, letting them, by their 
modesty, assist the effect of the centre. 

These principles may be applied to every kind of subject, 
and no less to landscape, still-life, or other compositions, 
than to historical subjects. 

As there is no greater demonstrative proof of the truth 
and application of the foregoing principles, than the in- 
spection of a Camera Obscura, u'e refer to that article, 
and to the descriptions of the peculiarities which it offers. 

Chiaro Oscuro seems to have been much beholden to 
the art of engraving (in which its power is very conspicu- 
ous) for its improvement, and perfection. It was not till 
after painters beheld their compositions divested of the effect 
of colours, that they sought for principles, which, inde- 
pendent of that effect, might be efficacious in producing 
force ; but which when they saw reduced to- black and white 
in prints, they adopted into pictures, and studied to obtain 
a force, distinct and independent of colouring, but which 
might be allied and assistant as well to that, as to compo- 
«ition, and to general effect. 

As a judicious method of studying the principles of others, 
we shall insert the following method, which we are told by 
Sir Joshua Reynolds he used with success. 

*' The same rults, which have been given in regard to 
the regulation of groupes of figures must be observed in regard 
to the grouping of lights, that there shall be a superiority of 
one over the rest, that they shall be separated, and varied 
in their shapes, and that there should be at least three lights : 
the secondary lights ought, for the sake of harmony and 
union, to be of ncirly equal brightness, though not of equal 
magnitude with the p'-incipal. 

" The means by which the painter works, and on which 

ihe effect of his picture depends, are light and shade, warm 

4 and 

54 CHI 

and cold colours : that there is an art in the management 
and disposition of those means will be easily granted, and 
it is equally certain, that this art is to be acquired by a care- 
ful examination of the works of those who have excelled 
in it. 

" I shall here set down the result of the observations 
which I have made on the works of those artists who appear 
to have best understood the manaejement of light and shade, 
and who may be considered as examples for imitation in this 
branch of the art. 

** Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoret, were among the 
first painters who reduced to a system what was before prac- 
tised without any fixed prmciple, and consequently neglected 
occasionally. From the Venetian painters Rubens extracted 
his scheme of coniposition, which was soon understood 
and adopted by his countiymen, and extended even to the 
minor painters of familiar life in the Dutch school. 

*' When I was at Venice the method I took to avail 
myself of their principles was tliis : when I observed an 
extraordinary effect of light and shade in any picture, I 
took a leaf of my pocket-book, and darkened every part of 
it in the same gradation of light and shade as the picture, 
leaving the white paper untouched to represent the light, and 
this without any attention to the subject or to the drawing 
of the figures. A few trials of this kind will be sufficient 
to give the method of their conduct in the management of 
their lights. After a few trials I found the paper blotted 
•nearly alike ; their general practice appeared to be, to allow 
not above a quarter of the picture for the light, including 
in this portion both the principal and secondary lights j 
another quarter to be as dark as possible ; and the remain- 
ing half kept in mezzotint or half shadow. 

^' Rubens appears to have admilted rather more light than 

a quarter. 

C H I 5S 

a quarter, and Rembrandt much less, scarce an eighth ; by. 
this conduct Rembrandt's hght is extremely brilHant, but it 
costs too much ; the rest of the picture is sacrificed to this 
one object. That hght will certainly appear the brightest 
which is surrounded with the greatest quantity of shade, 
supposing equal skill in the artist. 

" By this means you may likewise remark the various 
forms and shapes of those lights, as well as the objects on 
which they are flung, whether on a figure, or the sky, on 
a white napkin, on animals, or utensils, often introduced 
for this purpose only: it may be observed likewise what 
portion is strongly relieved, and how much is united with, 
its ground, for it is necessary that some part (though a small 
one is sufficient) should be sharp and cutting against its 
ground, whether it be light on a dark, or dark on a light 
ground, in order to give firmness and distinctness to the work; 
if on the other hand it is relieved on every side, it will ap- 
pear as if inlaid on its ground. Such a blotted paper, held 
at a distance from the eye, will strike the spectator as some- 
thing excellent for ihe disposition of light and shadow, 
though he does not distinguish whether it is a History, a 
Portrait, a Landscape, dead Game, or any thing else ; for 
the same principles extend to every branch of the art." 

Chiaro Oscuro is descriptive of pictures painted in black 
and white only, imitating basso-relievo, in marble or stone, 
&c. This manner of painting differs little from a drawing, 
in oil, instead of being washed ; except as some masters 
have succeeded in it, who have so truly touched their sub- 
jects, that, at a very little distance, they may pass for mar- 
ble to the most accurate inspector. 

Chiaro Oscuro, when spoken of prints, signifies those 
performed in imitetion of drawings washed in bistre. Sec. 
The middle tint is laid over the other part by means of a 


56 C H O 

block adapted to the whole (the lights being cut out and 
left quite white), and the shadows are produced over this 
tint, by another block, from whicli all besides the parts 
necessary to form the shadow, are cut away : for this inven- 
tion we are beholden to Hugo da Caupi, but the manner 
is not In much request, since the delicacy of engraving has 
been carried to perfection : it is still further superseded by 
the invention of aqua-tinta, 

CHISEL is an instrument used in sculpture, made of 
steel : chisels are of several shapes and sizes ; but all in 
some degree resembling the carpenter's chisel, which is 
too well known to need description. 

Chisel is used as a generic term, denoting the works 
of the sculptor; which are named productions of the chisel, 
&c. The manual application of the chisel requires dex- 
terity, and address, to ensure correctness. 

CHOICE, is a term used in the arts, to express that 
selection of subject, of composition, and of parts, which is 
worthy the imitative or mental exertions of art, and which 
is superior to the ordinary effects of nature, or what by being 
too common is vulgar and insipid. A subject should be 
well chosen ; otherwise it will want interest : or the only 
interest it possesses will arise from management, and, in- 
stead of supporting that management, it must solicit sup- 
port from it. Further, the best incident which a subject 
affords, should be chosen, and should be well displayed : 
this seems to be justified bv everv consideration arising from 
art. Attitudes should be mcII chosen, and not only tell the 
story well, but be in tbeniselvcs graceful, proper, and contri- 
bute to the general beauty of the w liole. Characters, actions, 
draperies, lights, accompaniments and accessories of all 
kinds, should be choseuj selected from whatever the sub* 
ject affords; and be displayed witii choice also: i. c. in the 


COL 5*7 

Ynost favourable manner, for the general advantage. On 
8uch choice an artist shews taste, judgment, genius, and 
good management, and it is sure to be distinguished to his 

CIPPI are a kind of short columns, or rather half- co- 
lumns : sometimes employed by sculptors to support vases, 
figures, &c. The ancients called dppi those parts of co- 
lumns on which they wrote inscriptions, which directed 
passengers to what places the road conducted : from hence 
the term has found its way into the arts. 

CLEAN, is spoken of colours when they possess a vigour 
and freshness of tint not destroyed by bad mixtures, by 
leasing, or by negligence : to cleanness of colours contri- 
butes the cleanness of the pallet and pencil. All small sub- 
jects,! and those which are to be closely inspected, require 
cleanness, especially flowers, and still life. 

To Clean pictures has been treated in Comp. of Col. 

CLOTH. — Vide this article in the Compendium of 

CLOTHING of figures requires strict attention to the 
costume, an advantageous display of the foldings, proper 
reference to situation in life of the party, and proper deco- 
f ation : also regard must be had to the action performing; 
since to perform some actions, a person may be less clothed 
fhart is requisite for others ; and to the seasons, whose in- 
fluence on clothing is notorious. 

COLD is the opposite to warmth in colouring: it usually 
is occasioned by a too prevalent use of blue tints, under the 
notion of delicacy ; but sometimes from a deficiency of 
warm tints employed in their proper places. 

COLOPHONY is turpentine boiledin water till itbecomes 
solid, white, and brittle: it is employed in some varnishes. 

DicT. Edit, 7. I COLOSSAL 

58 COL 

COLOSSAL Statue, is one by very much larger thaii 
nature. The most famous colossus is that mentioned by 
Pliny, lib, 34. ch. 37. made by Chares, a disciple of Lysip- 
pus J it was of bronze, represented Apollo, and was of such 
prodigious dimensions that fqw men could embrace its 
thumb. It was placed in the inner harbour of Rhodes ; 
and (small) vessels in full sail might pass under it, between 
its legs. It was overthrown by an earthquake. It is said to 
have been seventy cubits high ; to have been twelve years in 
making ; and to have cost 800 talents. The golden image 
of Nebuchadnezzar, described in the book of Daniel, was 
a colossus^ though not of equal hejght : and many other 
figures ancient and modern have justly been termed colossal; 
— but are not all colossal figures monsters? They are only 
tolerable when distance or situation diminishes their dimen- 
sions to somewhat of a correspondence with the life. 

COLOURING is that appropriate peculium of painting, 
whereby it is more immediately distinguished from other 
branches of the arts of design. Composition, expression, 
Sec. are common to others, but colouring belongs exclu- 
sively to painting. 

The end proposed by colouring, is to deceive the eye; 
the nearer therefore it approaches to the natural colours of 
objects represented, and the more advantageously such imi- 
tations are disposed, the more likely is the issue to be suc- 

The judgment of the eye is so exact, and the variety of 
natural objects so multiplied, that not many painters attain 
eminence in colouring: they may succeed in part, in cer- 
tain subjects, or as it were by intervals, without being able to 
give perfect satisfaction ; and perhaps, one reason may be, 
that, however systematic rules may apply to design, or ta 


COL 59 

composition (whereby the student is guarded against ma- 
terial faults by the labours and precepts of others, and by 
being able to ascertain, at least, an approach to a standard 
or canon), and also, that parts and dimensions are expressi- 
ble, and explicable ; yet, in colouring, every eye sees for it- 
self, and is for itself impressed by apparent truth or fallacy, 
beauty or deformity. The variety of tints which may be 
thought the same colour, is very considerable, as are its 
gradations and combinations, a slight departure from which, 
is not without serious consequences, when strengthened into 
a manner. 

Perhaps, as in music there is unquestionably a natural 
formation or disposition of the ear, which fits it for har- 
mony, See. ; so in the eye, a similar quality may be neces- 
sary, and a good eye be equally the gift of nature as a good 
ear. It is also highly probable, that many physical causes 
may contribute to prevent the acquisition of this branch of 
art : not only the eye may be more or less imperfect, without 
the perception of the person himself (who by constant habi- 
tude is insensible of it], but also the general constitution of 
out the body may concur to this deficiency. An artist natu- 
rally melancholy and bilious will adopt a yellow, a greenish, 
or, perhaps, a leaden tone of colouring. The listless and 
j)hlcgniaiic will colour, as it were, faded, or clayey : the 
sanguine will animate his carnations, love vivacity and 
brilliancy, and his tints be in danger of approaching the 
brick. It is notorious, that certain diseases aifect the ap- 
pearances of colours to the eye, and perhaps the principles- 
of such diseases, though latent, may be influential. 

The principles of colouring are, (i.) veracity, (ii.) 


or UNION. W-racitv is so necessary, that without it all is 
confusion 3 green bricks, red turf, black snow, white jet, 

X 2 are 

6o COL 

are but the extremes of departure from veracity. No rules 
can be adequate to direction on this head ; the only guide is. 
Nature. Force is the result of artful combination and tna.- 
nagemerit; whereby the principal objects in a composition, 
are distinguished, brought forward, and displayed to advan^ 
tage, by vigorous colours, , by happy touches well supported. 
Gradation of colours, is not only necessary as a part of 
aerial perspective, but also as a principle whereby the strong 
and powerful colours are placed where the principal effect 
ought to fall, not in those accessory parts which ought to be^ 
kept down and moderated : the placing of colours should 
correspond to the application of chiaro oscuro. Union of 
colours is the result of a judicious selection, arrangement, 
and situation of the colours in a piece. 

It should seem that the plan of conducting the principles 
of a picture is pretty similar in most of its branches: sup- 
posing, for instance, the effect be desired in the centre; 
the centre, therefore, must be the seat of the strongest light 
and shadow ; the centre also must be the seat of the strongest 
colours,, the strongest force, the strongest veracity, and, in 
short, of whatever may render it conspicuous: from this, as 
from a fixed point, must be gradated every principle; the 
light weakens, the colours also weaken ; but as the light 
catches here and there, revives and shines, but always in sub- 
ordination, so may the principal colour revive in weakened 
tints; not indeed to near akin to the centre as brothers and 
sisters, yet related, as in the family, anil connected, as 

The means employable to attain these eflects, are sympa- 
thy and aiilipalhy among the colours, whereby their true 
value is fixed. Sympathetic colours, /. e. colours allied in 
their tone, as brown, t<} dark-red, &.c. may contribute to 
union, but they exclude variety. Colours opposite in their 


COL 61 

tones, as blue and red, contribute to force and variety, but 
are void of union. The effect of any colour cannot be 
known till its neighbours are Inserted ; a pale red shall be 
overpowered by a deeper; while by a deep blue it shall be 
strengthened. This comparative appearance of colours is 
denominated their value. 

To complete a well-coloured picture, it should be \VAR^f 
and MELLOW J by the first is meant, a certain moderated 
resemblance to the effect of sun-light ; which being always 
yellowish, and more or less glowing, indicates that choice 
of colours, as allied to warmth ; if we consider yellow as 
warm, green is not so warm, because it approaches to blue; 
uhich is the coldest of ail colours, and by this property is 
the most difficult colour to introduce and manage : yet may 
not be omitted, as it Is the source of variety and opposition. 
Mellowness must regulate warmth, not permitting a positive 
yellow; that would be raw and offensive; yet yellowish: 
not a staring red, but reddish. 

The following remarks are a translation from the French : 

" The art of colouring is much more difficult than is 
usually supposed ; since during three hundred years, that 
painting has been revived, hardly more than eight or tenmas- 
ters have been excellent colourists. Perhaps, also, the in- 
finite variety included in the necessary objects and models of 
study, precludes the establishment of rules and directions 
on this art. 

^' Shall we inquire if Titian had better eyes than others? 
Or had he formed to himself superior rules ? If by rules he 
attained his merit, may not those who tread in his steps de- 
rive great advantages from the study of his works, from at- 
tentive and judicious observations on them ? [In order to 
ascertain what those rules were, and to determine their in- 
fluence and veracity.] But for this effect is requisite an at- 

4 ten live 

62 COL 

teniive disposition of mind, and an aptitude to penetrate the 
true causes of those effects we admire. How many painters 
have copied Titian many years, seemingly with their ut- 
most abihties, who yet have never understood the skill and 
deJicacy of the colouring in this great master ! The painter 
born for the art flies with his own wings, and liberates him- 
self from bad habits ; but it must be acknowledged, that 
a great master is no less rare than a great hero, his natural 
genius having to surmount all obstacles. 

" The truth of colouring consists not in giving to objects 
precisely the true and exact colour they possess in nature, 
but to contrive so, that they shall seem to have it; because, 
artificial colours not possessing the strength and truth of 
those in nature, the painter's must be rendered equal, by 
comparison between themselves ; whether by weakening 
some, or by strengthening others. 

** The artist who wishes to imitate the colours of nature, 
should vary his colouring according to the subject, to the 
time of day, the moment of action, the scene of the pic- 
ture ; for the whole tone of the piece ought to agree with the 
action. If the subject be joyful, let the colouring be gay; 
but, melancholy and sombre, if the subj'ct be terrible, or 

** Although it may be admitted gcncruHv that a painter 
is master of his effects; and that, like a musician who plays 
a solo, he may give what pitch he pleases to his instrument, 
yet it is equally true that painters (especially landscape- 
painters) ought to adhere to certain rules independent of 
tlieir caprice. The time of the dav, morning, evening; 
clear weather, or rainy; fog, or sunshine; do not present 
the same tone of colours in the same objects, but vary their 
brilliancy and splendour. The more serene is the weather, 
the clearer and brighter are colours ; rainv and hazy weather 


COL 63 

«icprlves them of ihclr force. When evening approac^ies, 
all nature seems to feel very sensiblv the absence of ihe sun, 
and, as if it regretted the parting, its colours become feeble 
and languid ; they vanish with him, revive at his return, 
and augment as he approaches his zenith. 

*' It is always to be observed, thai a room, or a vestibule, 
requires for the pictures it is to contain, a colouring adapted 
to the light they are expected to receive, and diflerent from 
the force of those exposed in open air. 

*' When we say that the whole tone of colours ought to 
agree with the action, and partake of the reigning colour ol 
the principals, we mean not to exclude that well-managed 
variety of other colours, without which a picture is merely 
a chiaro oscuro. A sky uniformlvbluc throughout, pleases 
much less than if diversified by flying cloud;-, or the rays of 
the setting sun. Neither is it in a lawlcs.'^ introduction of 
different colours, that consists the beauty of colouring as a 
composition, but in their just distribution, guided by the 
knowledge of their relations, and of their mutual support. 
The beauty of objects considered separately, depends much 
on the breaking of the colours, so that by this mixture, and 
the just and pleasing distribution of a masterly hand, a paint- 
ed stone, for instance, should resemble a natural stone; the 
carnations should appear real flesh, accorduig to the ages 
and sexes of the figures ; and. in short, not only that each 
object should imitate its original in nature, but also that tlie 
whole together should produce an agreeable union, and a 
dclightfuf harmony." 

In colouring, as in proportion, an artist should always 
select the most beautiful and perfect examples of nature : 
but then these examples must be characteristic: the tints of 
youth apply not to old age; nor the vigour of health, to 
the decrepitude of disease. 


64 COL 

Colouring In large works, requires more force, greaier 
depth, and opposition, than in smaller works, and than 
nature in fact possesses; since otherwise, at the distance 
necessary for the inspection of such works, they would be- 
come flat and enervated. 

The sentiments and remarks of Sir Joshua Reynolds 
on this important branch of art, cannot fail of being ac* 
ceptable to our readers. 

" All the modes of harmony, or of producing that efll^cl 
of colours which is required in a picture, may be reduced 
to three, two of which belong to the grand style, and the 
other to the ornamental. 

*' The first may be called the Roman manner, where the 
colours are of a fidl and strong body, such as are found in 
the Transfiguration ; the next is that harmony which is pro- 
duced by what the ancients called the corruption of the co- 
lours, by mixing and breaking them till there is a general 
union in the whole, without any thing that shall bring to 
your remembrance the painter's pallette, or the original co- 
lours : this may be called the Bolognian style ; and it is this 
hue and effect of colours which Ludovico Caracci seems to 
have endeavoured to produce, though he did not carry it to 
that perfection which we have seen since his time in the 
small works of the Dutch school, particularly in Jan Steen, 
where art is completely concealed, and the painter, like a 
great orator, never draws the attention from the subject on 

"The last manner belongs properly to the ornajmental style, 
which we call the Venetian, where it was first practised, but 
is, perhaps, better learned from Rubens : here the brightest 
colours possible are admitted, with the two extremes of 
warm and cold, and those reconciled by being dispersed ovei* 
the picture, till the whole appears like a bunch of flowers. 

<« As- 

COL 65 

** As I have given instances from the Dutch school, where 
the art of breaking colours may be learned, v.e may recom- 
mend here an attention to the works of Watteau for excel- 
lence in this florid style of painting. 

" To all these diflerent manners, there are some general 
rules that must never be neglected; first, tliat the same co- 
lour, which makes the largest mass, be difiused and appear 
to revive in different parts of the picture, for a single colour 
will make a spot or blot : even the dispersed flesh-colour, 
wliich the faces and hands make, require their principal mass, 
which is best produced by a naked figure; but where the 
subject will not allow of this, a drapery approaching to flesh- 
colour will answer the purpose; as in the Transfiguration, 
where a woman is clothed in drapery of this colour, which 
makes a principal to all the heads and hands of the picture; 
and, for the sake of harmony, the colours, however distin- 
guished in their lights, should be nearly the same in their 

shadows, of a 

-" Simple unity of shade, 

As all were from one single palette spread." 

And to give the utmost force, strength, and solidity to your 
work, some part of the picture should be as light and some 
as dark as possible ; these two extremes are then to be har- 
monized and reconciled to each other. 

" Instances where both of them are used may be observed 
in two pictures of Rubens, which are equally eminent for 
the force and brilliancy of their cfiect ; one is in the cabinet 
of the Duke of Rutland, and the other in the chapel of 
Rubens at Antwerp, which serves as his monument. In 
both these pictures he has introduced a female figure dressed 
in black satin, the shadows of which are as dark as pure 

DiCT. Edit. 7. K black, 

66 COL 

black, opposed to the contrary extreme of brightness, can 
make them. 

** If to these different manners \vc add one more, that in 
which a silver-grey or pearly tint is predominant, I believe 
-every kind of harmony that can be produced by colours 
will be comprehended. One of the greatest examples in 
this mode is the famous Marriage at Cana, in St. George's 
church at Venice, where the sky, which makes a very 
considerable part of the picture, is of the lightest blue co- 
lour, and the clouds perfectly white : the rest of the picture 
is in the same key, wrought from this high pitch. We see 
likewise many pictures of Guido in this tint ; and indeed 
those that are so are in his best manner. Female figures, 
angels, and children, were the subjects in which Guido 
more particularly succeeded ; and to such the cleanness and 
neatness of this tint perfectly corresponds, and contributes 
not a little to that exquisite beauty and delicacy which so 
much distinguishes his works. To see this style in perfec- 
tion, we must again have recourse to the Dutch school, 
particularly to the works of the younger Vandevelde, and 
the younger Teniers, whose pictures are valued by the con- 
noisseurs in proportion as they possess this excellence of a 
silver tint. Which of these different styles ought to be 
preferred, so as to meet every man's idea, would be difficult 
to determine, from the predilection which every man has 
to that mode which is practised by the school in which he 
has been educated ; but if any pre-eminence is to be given, 
it must be to that manner which stands in the highest esti- 
mation with mankind in general, and that is the Venetian, 
or rather the manner of Titian, which, simply considered 
as producing an effect of colours, will certainly eclipse, 
with its splendour, whatever is brought into competition 
with it: but, as I hinted before, if female delicacy and 

2 beauty 

COM 6)bi 

beauty be the principal object of the painter's aim, the 
purity and clearness of the tint of Guido will correspond 
better, and more contribute to produce it than even the 
glowing tint of Titian. 

*' The rarity of excellence in any of these styles of colour- 
ing sufficiently shews the difficulty of succeeding in them. 
It may be worth the artist's attention, while he is in this 
pursuit, particularly to guard against those errors which 
seem to be annexed to, or thinly divided from., their neigh- 
bouring excellence : thus, when .he is endeavouring to ac- 
quire the Roman style, without great care he falls into a 
hard and dry manner. The flowery colouring is nearly 
allied to the gaudy effect of fan-painting. The simplicity 
of the Bolognian style requires the nicest hand to preserve it 
from insipidity. That of Titian, which may be called the 
golden manner, when unskilfully managed, becoqies what 
the painters call foxy; and the silver degenerate* into the 
leaden and heavy manner. All of them, to be perfect in 
their way, will not bear any union with each other ; if they 
are not distinctly separated, the effect of the picture will 
be feeble and insipid, without any mark or distinguished 

COLOURISTS is spoken of painters, who, according 
to their success, are either good, indiffbrerit, or bad co- 
Ipurists. The best colourists are usually thought to be 
Titian, Corregio, Rubens, and Van Dyck. 

COMPANIONS, are two pictures of the same size, and 
representing subjects in some degree of the same nature : hi 
landscape, however, it seems to be a kind of custom to 
companionize subjects diametrically opposite. In the in- 
stances of a storm and a calm. 

COMPOSITION is the science of arranging and d\spo3- 
K 3 ing 

68 COM 

ing secundum artem those objects which are proper to be 
introduced and represented in painting, sculpture, See. 

Composition is of the greatest consequence to the 
beauty of a picture; it directs and regulates the ideas which 
a painter ought to admit in his works, and consequently 
those ideas which such works are intended to excite in the 
spectator. If well directed and exerted, the performance 
which possesses it is striking, vigorous, and attractive; it is 
also pleasing and charming. If ill understood and mis- 
employed, the other ingredients of the piece, how excel- 
lent soever, occasion merely a confusion of ideas in the 
spectator, corresponding to the jumble visible in the work. 

When a subject is selected for representation, whatever 
may enter into it, or form any part of it, ought to be well 
understood, whether it be drawn from history, nature, or 
fancy. The habitude of working does not teach taste or 
discernment. Natural genius is equally proper to the 
painter as to the poet : study must perfect genius, and 
enable it to express itself; but genius does not originate in 

The different parts of a picture ought to form one whole, 
one assemblage, which, by their relative correspondence to 
each other, should impart satisfaction and pleasure. No- 
thing should be the w ork of chance, or appear as if placed 
■where it is by caprice ; but each object requires its place, 
its relative and appropriate proportions, and each figure 
should appear justly engaged in its office and situation ; 
otherwise a picture is a mere confusion of objects. 

At a certain distance, too great to distinguish the objects 
particularly, or even to inspect their actions, the whole of 
a picture shoqld appear an agreeable collection of masses, 
lights, and shadows, whose forms, and their relations, of 
whatever nature they may be, please, and as it were regale 


COM 69 

the eye; the effect^ as well of colouring as of other prin- 
ciples, presenting an agreeable and engaging aspect. 

The great masses cannot produce this eficct, except as 
they are judiciously subdivided and varied In their parts. 

Whatever be the subject treated, it admits only one point 
of time for the action ; and all that a painter includes in 
his picture ought to conduce to the represenlation of this 
very instant; whatever relates to actions past, or future, 
except as it elucidates or augments the present, is so far an 
infringement on the laws of composition. 

Every action furnishes divers instants. The artist must 
choose the most favourable and interesting, according to 
the rules of art ; for although the most pathetic may be, in 
recital, the most interesting and striking, yet it may be 
void of those necessary groupes, distributions, characters, 
and effects, which are indispensable to a good picture. 

The unity of action forbids the admission o^ two instants 
which may divide the attention of the spectator, and which, 
by offering two principals, suffer neither to be principal : 
for, so much attention as is gained by the second, is infal- 
libly lost to the first ; consequently the main object proposed 
by the whole plan, is vacated and destroyed. 

This rule is not to be understood as forbidding the intro- 
duction of circumstances, or of objects, whose relation to 
the business in hand is immediate and intimate, and whose 
omission would render any part of the main action unintel- 
ligible or obscure. 

The consideration of this unity should render painters 
very scrupulous in the choice of episodes and accessories. 
If introduced only for ornament, they are often worse than 
useless ; or if they are not well kept down, they become 
great defects, and the greater, the more they are in their 
nature interesting. 


Jo CO M 

It is true there are also subjects wherein the strictness of 
rule may be moderated to a certain degree ; such are those 
whose expressions are necessarily varied or mixed j where 
different passions shew themselves in different persons : yet 
here the action is one, taken by itself, however diversified 
may be its natural effects on the parties concerned in it. This 
diversity, however, must be such as would naturally arise 
from the subject ; so that on examination of any one ex- 
pression, it should prove to be an immediate offspring of the 
principal action ; as all the expressions united should the 
more strongly, because of their variety, enforce the prin- 
cipal idea of the piece. Such subjects arc always sufficiently 
fertile in themselves, without needing assistance from epi- 
sodes of any kind. The variation of attitudes, of characters, 
of groupes, may freely be consulted, yet always with a view 
to the unity of action, never admitting figures to lety use- 
less circumstances, or any distracting cause whatever. 

Unity of place is not less necessary. A painter is not at 
liberty to vary, or suppose the scene at his fancy ; nor to 
represent in a landscape what the history relates as passing 
in an apartment ; add to this, that having introduced a 
vestibule, or apartment, he ought by all means to avoid 
objects which might attract the eye out of it. In fact, 
character and propriety must regulate the whole ; even the 
decoration of his composition is not left to his caprice : a 
hut, a cottage, admit not of colonnades or gilded turrets j 
nor is it fit that a royal palace should seem the dwelling 
of boors, or appear equally littered and disordered as a 

In every composition some figures are more important 
than others j some are principals, others subordinates : every 
object ought to be treated and distinguished according to 
its necessity and importance, in correspondence to which 


COM 71 

it is supposed to raise an interest in the spectator; but it 
would be an exceedingly vicious extreme to enforce this dis- 
tinction too rigidly : it would interrupt the harmony of the 
subject, deprive the artist of his liberty, and shackle the 
most intelligent genius. The management of the colours 
must contribute to render the principal groupe and the prin- 
cipal fi2;ure more evident. A.s to the grouping of the 
figures, the subordinate must yield to the more important; 
and although the whole together must form but one subject, 
every part of which is strongly allied to its relative parts, 
yet each must contribute to the principalness (so to term it) 
of the principal. 

It is highly improper to plant figures in lines ; or, in a 
groupe, to represent every person who contributes to com- 
pose it as of equal height, like a regiment of soldiers, whose 
regularity is aUvays at enmity with composition; but how- 
ever freely a groupe may seem assembled, let it never appear 
without intelligence, proportion, and conduct. 

It is not sufficient that a correspondence appears between 
the groupes which form a composition, unless variety be 
superadded to it : too great uniformity in the attitudes of 
members, and of figures, renders such figures cold and un- 
pleasing. Contrast must animate and revive them. Con- 
trast, therefore, figures against figures, members against 
members, groupes against groupes ; vary the positions, nor 
let the legs and arms form parallel lines. An upright figure 
is contrasted by a figure reclining; a figure seen in front, 
by another seen behind ; an arm, or a leg, seen on the 
•inside, is contrasted by others seen on the outside. What- 
ever conduces to variety (if the subject require extensive 
variety) is acceptable ; but admit not constraint into the 
contrast ; nature does not admit it ; and nature is to be fol- 
lowed as closely as may be, for even the greatest exertions 


72 COM 

of art arc but accurate and regulated imitations of nature. 
In the greatest mob that ever was assembled, and animated 
also with the same passions and motives, a verv evident 
difference is maintained throughout all persons in it; their 
attitudes are not the same, though they mean and relate to 
the same thing j but each has his peculiar turn of gesture, 
situation as to the spectator, front, back, sideways, &c. 
together with his character of figure, tall, short, &cc. and 
other peculia. 

If the subject require many figures standing, they must 
be varied by ingenious airs of their heads or other parts. 

Contrast also extends itself to the masses, which ought 
not to be of the same form, the same size, the same colour, 
or the same light. One of the most important and indis- 
pensable branches of composition, is perspicuity with re- 
gard to the action represented : no doubt should be permit- 
ted on this article. It is disagreeable to torture the mind 
by guessing at the fact ; the recollection, or conception how 
such a scene might pass, should be amply sufficient to in- 
form the spectator on the subject of the piece. 

It has been the custom of some artists (who have sup- 
posed that thereby they deeply studied their compositions) 
to seek materials from their port-folios; they collect figures, 
or parts, heads, 8cc. and combining them, they form as it 
were a dress of motley ; uniting irrelative articles, to form 
what ought to be intimately correspondent; whereas no 
selection, even of studies from nature, can supply the in- 
gredients necessary to a composition ; and a dependence 
upon them will debilitate even genius itself, and render 
languid, if not frivolous, the best design. This remark is 
not meant to depreciate the value of studies from nature; 
they are necessary to impart a precision and veracity, a 
force and finishing to a composition after it is adjusted j but 


COM 7^ 

should form no part of the ideal plan of treatment and con- 
duct of anv piece. 

Nor arc former studies, remarks, accounts, and informa- 
tions, to be dispensed with on the article Costume, to the 
just observation of which, every intelligence that can be 
procured is useful. Every figure should appear habited ac- 
cording to the manner of its country, and the time and 
occasion of the subject : a Chinese should not appear 
dressed like a European, nor an American Indian like a 

If the laws of composition may be relaxed, it is in sub- 
jects where allegory forms part of the representation ; but, 
however allegory may claim a latitude, as well in painting 
as in poetry, yet the utmost care should be taken to guard 
against licentiousness. Immemorial usao-c has siven a kind 
of authenticity to certain personifications to which novelties 
have no pretensions ; and because by their very nature they 
are not a little ambiguous, they contribute by their ambi- 
guity to obscure what otherwise might be very distinct and 

Painting may imitate poetry in genius, style, fire, and 
expression ; but although, by Horace's rale, both are per- 
mitted to include in their compositions certain liberties and 

( Pictor'ibus at que Poet is, 

^idlibet audendi iemper fu'it ^equa potestas,) 

yet great circumspection should be maintained not to alxise 
the privilege. 

The principles of composition seem to be (i.) Invention, 
which selects the subject, and the objects which ought to 
be treated as relative to it. (ii.) Disposition, which re- 
gulates the places of the objects accoiding to their import- 

D;CT. Edit. 7. l ancc — 

74 C O ISI 

ance — to their picturesque appearance — to the variety re- 
sulting from them — assembling the principal groupes — or 
dispersing the smaller, (m.) Propriety as to charactv;r — 
scenery — and accessories, (iv.) Effkct : of colours — (>f 
chiaro oscuro — together with effects, general, and pa'-ti- 
cular. (v.) Costume, and (vi.) Intelligence, or Per- 
SPicuiTV, in relating the fact and treating its depend- 

A RICH composition is that which possesses taste, ordon- 
nance, fecundity, which attracts the spectator by its beauty 
and merit. True richness of composition arises not from a 
multitude of figures or objects, but from its powers of 
imparting to the spectator a muliitude of ideas, or one 
leading idea, in so forcible a manner that it shall produce 
many ideas. 

A BEAUTIFUL composition, is that wherein every object 
Is so happily situated, the groupes so well contrasted, the 
airs and attitudes of the figures so properly varied, and 
the whole so a-propos, as evinces the skill and conduct of 
the master. 

A LOADED composition abounds in too many objects ; 
they are too numerous, and multiplied. A scarcity of ob- 
jects, on the contrary, impoverishes a composition. 

An EXTRAVAGANT Composition offers forced attitudes, 
unnatural forms, false disposition, &c. : these arc to be 
anxiously avoided, as are ?,11 compositions that -dvc forced, 
cold, confused, or irregular. 

COMPOSITION or Preparation for painting on walls, 
is a name given to a mixture of Greek pitch, mastic, and 
coarse varnish, boiled together in an earthen pot : it is ap- 
plied with a brush, on walls designed to be painted in oil, 
and is afterwards smoothed with a hot trowel, whereby it 
answers the purposes of a priming. Some use two or three 
5 coats 

CON 75 

coats of oil, boHing hot, and prime with earthy colours, 
such as the okers, &c. Others make their composition of 
lime, and marble powder, which they saturate with linseed 
oil, after its being well struck on the wall with the trowel : 
when these coatings are thoroughly dry, they are sometimes 
ac;ain primed. It is evident this preparation answers the 
purpose o^ fresco, which is a very troublesome manner o^ 

CONNOISSEUR, should signify a person whose know- 
ledge in the principles of art, and their application, enables 
him to form a determinate judgment on «uch performances 
as pass under his survey. 

Many persons pass for Connoisseurs^ who by no means 
deserve the appellation : they are perhaps sufficiently in- 
formed to distinguish the manners of certain masters, or^ 
perhaps, to arraign the detail of a work ; but are not blessed 
with that extensive information, that various science, and 
that enlarged apprehension, which may enable them ade- 
quately to enter into, as it were, the principles of the art, 
and of the artist, 

CONTORSION is expressive of attitudes, or features* 
whose representations are bevond the truth of nature. With 
regard to attitudes, to strain them, or so extremely to con- 
trast the position of their members, as to contort them, i^J 
a principal offence against the justice and truth of design ; 
althoughj perhapSj such attitudes may be possible to the 
human figure. As to the parts of the countenance, those 
persons who endeavour to render expression remarkably 
sensible and vigorous, are in the greatest danger of con- 
torsion ; whose efl'ect is so closely allied to the ridiculous, 
as to need little more exaggeration to complete the carica- 

CONTOUR is significative of the same as outline, 
I. 1 and 

7^ CON 

and expresses those apparent lines which define the super- 
ficies of a figure; those which terminate its dimensions. Con- 
tours should not be hard, dry, or stiff; they should not be 
every where equally perceptible, but should be softened, 
melted, and harmoniously declined into the surrounding 
parts ; except in such places where distinctness is requisite, 
and which require certainty and force. The grace of Con- 
tours depends much on a certain wavingness : a gliding, 
flowing, regular, unbroken (i. e. void of sharp and dis- 
agreeable angles), easy appearance, has a good effect. They 
ought to be continued, or lengthened (i. e. not sudden or 
harsh), to avoid too many pieces. Care however is requisite, 
that in giving the member a gliding outline, the anatomy is 
not injured, nor the bones dislocated. This rule is of indis- 
pensable consequence to figures standing on one foot only. 

CONSTRAINT is spoken of a piece whose treatment is 
not firm, bold, and determined, but which shews that the 
hand which produced it, was under doubt and fear. A 
drawing, for instance, which is copied, almost always shews 
constraint, and thereby is distinguishable from an original, 
even without being compared. 

A figure is constrained when its attitude is not easy and 

CONTRAST signifies, in painting, a variety, a dissimi- 
larity of objects, of colours, of forms, of attitudes, and 
of members : always supposing each contrasting part to 
contribute its share to the general welfare, the taste, beauty, 
and nature of the piece. 

The various disposition of objects, produces contrast in 
the groupes : for instance, if three figures are assembled, one 
is seen behind, another before, the third on one side : each 
figure should avoid being a repetition of any other in the 
same groupe, but should contrast its companions, and each 


COP 77 

groupe should contrast the other groupes in the same piece. 
Contrast requires also a diftbrence among the colours of 
groupes, and the objects which compose them. A single 
colour may sometimes permit contrast, if it be capable of 
bright lights and of deep shadows : or if pale in one object, 
and dark in others. 

A figure is said to be well contrasted, when its attitude 
offers an opposition of members, varying their directions, 
and effects, their disposition, and their appearances. 

COPY is a repetition of a picture, sculpture, engraving, 
or drawing. That which serves to be copied, is called the 
ORIGINAL, if it be not itself a copy, but especially if it be 
a study, whether ideal or from nature : which seems to be 
the reason why we say, taken from nature, or a study from 
nature, rather than a copy from nature. 

The source of ideas in an original is nature : art cannot \ 

equal this advantage : yet from the imperfect productions of 
art, are copies made. In an original all is clear ; it permits 
the most free and liberal employment of attitude, colouring, 
touch, disposition, &c. ; but in copying, these articles being 
already prepared, and merely to be imitated accurately, the 
mind is constrained, confined, and limited, which prevents 
the work from possessing that spirit which appears in an 
original. Even the same hand which produced the first, is 
fatigued, and wearied, when about the second. Or if the 
copyist be of superior skill to the author of the original, he 
will not equal that original, because the hand constantly 
falls short of the conceptions of the mind. Indeed a mas- 
ter seldom takes the trouble of copying; it is usually the 
employment of ordinary abilities. 

Sometimes however it happens, when a middling painter 
has started a happy thought, which by poverty of expression, 


?8 COP 

or otherwise, is inadequately rendered, that a copy shall 
surpass such an original, if a great master avails himself of 
the same thought, and completes it by the embellishment 
and conduct of his superior abilities, adding to it beauties 
it did not possess. 

Certain painters have copied pictures so exactly, that the 
greatest connoisseurs have been embarrassed, if not deceived, 
in distinguishing the copy from the original. Collectors of 
pictures should therefore be careful in purchasing, especially 
pictures said to be of the Italian masters, because they huve 
been very often copied with the greatest resemblance and 
address : and many of these copies being old, have acquired 
an additional likeness by their ao^e. 


Even if in copying, the copyist does not confine himseJf 
minutely to every trait of his original ; yet a copy is but a 
copy, though rot servile, as a translation from an ori- 
ginal treatise, though not literal, is but a translation. 

Certain pieces seem to be equivocal, neither copies nor 
originals ; when, for example, in treating his subject, the 
painter uses the thoughts and figures of a preceding master, 
among those of his own invention. And yet it sometimes 
happens, that a part, or parts, of a composition shall re- 
semble a former^ merely by memory, and without design ; 
or by accident, as nature may repeat such or such an effect. 
Heads, for instance, may resemble certain of Raphaelle^ 
simply because the same character being treated, requires 
corresponding traits. Moreover, I do not see wherefore a 
icmarkably fine and applicable character, should not be as 
rcadilv permitted in painting, as an applicable quotation in 
writing. If indeed an author borrows throughout, set him 
down for a plagiary ; but if he modestly insert the words of 
ajw^her, instead of his own which he supposes inferior, let 


€ p P 79 

him be thought laudable, rather than blameable. For if 
cither painter, or writer, is to be carped at for every Hue not 
strictly original, they may well exclaim, 

Perearit qui ante nos nostra dixertint ! 

Nor perhaps are the very principles of their arts independent 
of repetition. When a painter is to represent an object he 
cannot have before him in nature (suppose a lion), he must 
procure the best possible authority for the article ; and if he 
i^ucceecls from such information, let him have his praise, 
though a picture from nature may be superior, or more cor- 
rect : in such a case an artist must use the labours of thoie 
who have preceded him ; and wherefore an arlisl should not 
study his subject, by perusing the conceptions of his prede- 
cessors, as well as an author docs by perusing the writings of 
others pn his subject, does not appear. It is the constant 
repetition of the works of others uniier the profession cjf 
originality, which contracts guilt. 

A painter copies himself', when he repeats in his compo- 
sitions what he had already produced: this is the first step 
to the formation of a manner. Now as nature has no man- 
ner, but is infinitely various, fertile, and prolific through- 
out, so should be the mind, and consequently the works of 
an artist. A. manner is the offspring of that imbecility of 
jnind which is unable to pursue nature thoroughly, and 
therefore rests satisfied with present attainments. 

When a painter, to please his friends, or himself, copies 
one of his compositions, and adds what ideas he thinks 
proper for further improvement, are not such pictures equal 
to his original ? Nor ought we to degrade those copies from 
immense compositions on ceilings, &c. done in fresco, 
jmd copied in oil : nor are drawings from pictures, or prints 
from drawings, properly copies : the difference of the man- 

8o COR 

ner of operation being too great, and even many of their 
principles as well as modes of workmanship, entirely distinct. 

To COPY, is one mean for promoting the studies of those 
not arrived at high degrees of skill : variety of nianners, of 
styles, &c. is desirable, not only because each master 
copied, has his manner of seeing nature, but also to accus- 
tom the student to facility, and to avoid as much as may be 
his acquiring a settled and prejudicial manner. 

COPYIST is spoken of painters, &c. who do not com- 
pose works of their own invention, but repeat those of 
others. However accurate and perfect such works may be, 
a Copyist is not usually reckoned among good masters : be- 
cause the first and most ingenious parts of his art are not 
introduced into his practice. 

CORNU-COPIA, or Horn of Plenty, is an orna- 
ment of painting and sculpture, whose application is de- 
ri-ved from the ancients : it is used as an attribute or indi- 
cation of abundance, and is given to Ceres, to certain river- 
gods, as the Nile, Sec. It is a kind of horn, twisted 
spirally, increasing continually in width, and from its 
opening pouring out fruits, flowers, and other precious pro- 
ductions of nature or of art. 

CORRECTNLISS is usually spoken of Design, but may 
without offence be applied to other branches of art ; colour- 
ing, for instance, requires correctness no less than design ; 
and it seems not irrelative to say, such or such objects are 
correctly (or incorrectly) coloured. But in general, Design 
is regarded as correct, or otherwise. Correctness consists 
in the accuracy of the proportions, in the truth of the 
contours, and rounding parts, of figures 5 and in their eflects 
as to lights and shadows. 

To correct design, the assistance of anatomy is indis- 
pensable : the human body (in which principally correctness 


COS 8i 

is criticized) being capable of great variety of motions, and 
consequently of effects, insomuch as to require frequent 
appeals to nature, and that of a good choice. It is a great 
drawback on the merits of a master, to call him incorrect : 
yet to this censure even Titian must submit, however ex- 
cellent in colouring. What had been his merit, had he 
equalled Raphaelle in correctness ! 

The scat of correctness is the Eye : mathematical preci- 
sion and measurements are inadequate to correctness j be- 
cause foreshortening destroys their application. To have 
the Eve well skilled, is a capital advantage ; but not to be 
acquired without continued assiduity. 

CORRIDOR, a gallery or passage in large buildings, 
which leads to distant apartments. 

COSTUME is an Italian term, adopted among artists, 
expressing the conformity of a representation of any fact, 
to the fact itself, as related, or as, upon the best author! ty> 
it may be supposed to have really happened. This confor- 
mity extends to the manners of the times, the characters of 
the persons, the dresses, and accoutrements, the customs 
of the places, the buildings, and style of architecture, the 
animals, the national taste, riches, or poverty, and to 
whatever else is appropriate to the action treated. 

Tlie manners of the times are only to be understood from 
historic relations, or remains of past ages; which demon- 
strates that no little taste for study ought to animate the 
historic artist. The characters of the principal personages 
of the piece must be drawn from the same source, always 
with an attention to general nature, and not without consult- 
ing the prevailing ideas of those who are to survey the pic- 
ture, since there are many articles (on the subject of morale, 
8cc.) wherein the moderns so widely diifer from the ancients, 
as to forbid their introduction ; perhaps totally, but cer- 

DiCT. Edit. 7. M tainly 

82 COS 

tainly in their full force as an ancient might have treated 

When no historic authority exists, or is procurable, the 
artist is more at liberty to indulge his invention ; but he 
must by no means imitate such objects as are familiar to 
the spectator ; since if he does, he will hardly persuade 
him that the scene of the picture is remote, while it con- 
tains objects at hand : it will seem at most a theatrical imi- 
tation of such a story, not an historic relation of it. 

It has been debated, whether the costume should be 
strictly attended to in portraits. It is urged against it, that 
however the fashion of the times may favour the mode, yet 
in itself it may be ungraceful j that when it is out of fashion 
it will appear awkward, perhaps be thought hideous; and 
that posterity may well be satisfied without it. On the 
other hand, it is well known how much this fidelity con- 
tributes to resemblance of the wearer ; it becomes historical 
to after-times; there is no certain universal and permanent 
costume, except in habits of office, or as distinguishing 
badges of certain societies ; if the persons represented are 
not above wearing such dresses, why should they decline to 
appear in them in distant times ? As to the extreme, or 
pink of the mode, be it remembered that not persons of 
sense, but fribbles only require it — transmit them to poste- 
rity as fribbles, and welcome ; but to persons of under- 
standing, a certain general resemblance of their dress, Sec. 
is sufficient ; which not only allows a likeness that may last 
many years, but also permits to the artist a more . agreeable 
and picturesque disposition of its parts. As to the idea of 
antique dresses, armour. See. it seems ridiculous. What ! 
a portrait for the inspection pf a man's nearest friends, so 
treated that they may not discover the likeness, and for the 


C R A 83 

sake of spectators many years afterwards, that they may not 
discover the unllkcness ! 

In sculpture, indeed., which cannot by the artifice of 
light and shadow conceal the offensive pecuharities of dress, 
much Uberty mav be allowed. To be satisfied that here the 
mode must be very greatly moderated, if not quitted, we 
need only survey a few tombs, whose effigies are surrounded 
\\ ith the once fashionable full-bottomed wigs ; their un- 
couth appearances shock the principles of art, and create 
a wish that the sculptor had employed less marble and more 

After all, if a portrait of a Turk were transmitted to 
England, how should we ascertain it to be a Turk without 
the costume ? the tin-ban, See. Or a mandarin of China, 
how should we distinguish him without his hat and in- 
signia ? And if distant contemporaries would remain igno- 
rant without such information, why should we not accom- 
modate posterior compatriots with the same advantages ? 

CRADLE is a name given to a tool used in Metzotlnto, 
which is rocked, as it were, backward and forward in laying 
of metzotinto grounds : ,its front edge is circular, that it 
may more readily move,, without leaving those unequal 
markings which might arise from corners. The face of this 
tool is cut by a number of deep lines, all parallel and true, 
which run down to its circular front edge; this edge beino* 
whetted, with a bias toward the back edge, becomes very 
sharp, and the lines engraved on it produce a number of 
teeth or points, which, when pressed on the copper-plate 
in working, raise a burVf and by many repetitions produce 
a uniform black ground all over the plate. 

Cradles are made of several sizes; the larger for primary 
grounds, the lesser for retouching places that have been too 
much scraped away. 


84 C R I 

CRITICISM. " It is certain the improvement of art 
is the result of long-continued observation and remark on 
its productions, compared with those originals which are 
subjects of imitation. The works of nature are first seen, 
as it were, grossly, then more distinctly, and, by degrees, 
the comparison of one with another, and just reflection 
upon them, improve the genius, and form the taste of an 

^' From a habit of exercising his attention on objects 
around him, an artist generally discerns with more accuracy 
than others their distinct and peculiar characters; but as 
variety is endless, it is impossible even unremitted study 
should attain an exact knowledge of every property in every 
subject he is required to treat. 

" It is a well-known story of Apelles, that having 
finished a capital picture, he exposed it to public observa- 
tion, concealing himself beliind it, that he might profit by 
the remarks it occasioned. A cobler very justly complained 
of an error in the sandal ; Apelles altered it. The next 
day the cobler, finding his former criticism had been at- 
tended to, thought proper to censure the drawing of a 
leg; Apelles answered him with that expression which 
afterwards became a proverb, ' Let not the cobler go be- 
' yond his last.' 

*' I allude to this story, because I think it may furnish 
an observation or two on the present subject. Artists in 
general are too shy of asking opinion and advice from 
others, who, being unbiassed spectators, might perhaps 
discover some inipropriety which the artist himself over- 
looks from a constant inspection of his work. It is true, 
such remarks are not always of importance, but if they 
sometimes deserve attention, even that is profit; nor are 
those remarks always useless which at fvrst sight appear to 


C R I 8s 

be so; at least they let us into the manner of thinking of 
those who are unconfined by the rules of art. 

" Another observatSun I mean to raise from the beha- 
viour of the coblcr. I fear not a few who take upon them 
to deliver their sentiments very freely are by no means 
adepts in the principles of art. I have admitted that an 
unlearned eye may perceive blemishes ; I admit still further, 
that as persons in general may distinguish discord from 
harmony without skill in music, so they may likewise 
judge with propriety, even capital works of art : but as it 
would be ridiculous to require a musician to insert no dis- 
cords into his works ; so to forbid an artist the use of such 
or such proportions, colours, or management, would be 
very arbitrary and absurd. 

" I entreat the critics, in the first place, to be certam 
the principles they have adopted are just; to reflect, that, if 
they are just, perhaps they may not be indispensable; and 
though proper and necessary in general, whether their 
omission in the present instance is not better than their 
insertion, as thereby the artist may have * snatched a grace 
* beyond the rules of art.' 

** Will these gentlemen permit me to ask them, if they 
have duly considered the importance of rumour and report 
to an artist ? I persuade myself that personal motive has 
no share in their observations ; but may not their auditors 
form opinions of the works of a master from the ideas they 
receive at such times ? and then perhaps they may consider 
a very meritorious artist as a mere blockhead, because that 
particular performance was not so happy as to please 
Mr. Such-an-one. 

'' Impressed with a sense of the importance of these 
principles, I wish some able hand would compose such re» 
gulations as might improve both art and the artist, might 


86 C R 1 

rejjulate the public taste, inform the judgment of indivi- 
duals, and promote that liberality of sentiment which I 
conceive to be of the utmost utility. 

" I beg leave to offer, as a sketch for such a plan, the 
following thoughts : 

** I. For an artist to be offended with the remarks of the 
public, or of an individual (when made with integrity), is 
to suppose himself the only person in the world who enjoys 
the gift of sight. 

*' II. When an artist offers his piece to the inspection of 
others, he should entreat them to impart their genuine sen- 
timents ; for if they deceive him by forging an opinion (so 
to express it), how should he profit by their remarks? 

** III. If the opinion of others agrees not with his own, 
it should put an artist on examination of his principles, 
and the higher he can trace his ideas the better, lest, if they 
should prove erroneous, he may continue subject to errors 
issuing from the original source; but if they prove just, he 
will feel the stronger satisfaction in his own mind. 

*' IV. It is of consequence to an artist to know the 
judgment of others upon his principles ; to attain this, he 
should state them freely as proper occasions offer. When 
it is perceived he works on serious reflection, he will at 
least be considered as a man of sense, which very opinion 
will usually supersede many frivolous criticisms on his per- 

" V. When any one, with the coblcr, ventures beyond 
his last, let the artist improve his patienc-o and good-humour 
bv exercise, and not be dispirited by the ignorance or petu- 
lance of the critic. 

" VI. When a piece is presented to the inspection of a 
judge, he should examine it with attention, lest a slight 

4 glimpse! 

C R I 87 

glimpse may mortify the artist, and thereby contribute to 
impede his advancement. 

*' VII. A judicious critic will point out first the most 
striking blemishes ; after having convinced the artist ot 
their impropriety, he should descend, or rather ascend, to 
smaller faults. If an artist cannot be convinced of great 
mistakes, it is labour lost to mention smaller; if an artist 
is sensible of considerable errors, there is hope he may 
improve by attention to less material defects. 

" VIII. Many unlearned persons are apt to think that nu- 
merous small faults compose a large onej whereas, in fact, 
there may be various trifling blemishes, which, though truly 
blemishes, may not spoil the piece. Critics would do well 
to notice only more apparent and obvious faults, in the pre- 
sence of those who are ignorant. 

" IX. When a judge has discovered what he thinks a 
fault, let him consider in his mind whether the artist might 
not have some sufficient (though latent) reason for that par- 
ticular; whether, if he had omitted that, he must not have 
inserted a grosser impropriety : if he has chosen the least 
evil, he is entitled rather to commendation than to blame, 
supposing them equally inevitable. 

" X. The positive injunction of a patron, the want of a 
sufficient reward, or injurious expedition (if unavoidable), 
are not to be imputed to the artist as a fault. 

*' Xl. In conmiending a work of art, a true critic shews 
his skill ; not every one sees beauties which are, though 
many see deformities which are not there : on this article 
let judges speak freely, as being well assured it is of singular 
importance; every artist is very sensibly affected bv praise. 
A true judge will applaud what appears meritorious, inde- 
pendent of the opinions of others, and will give his suffrage 

accordingly : 

88 CUP 

accordingly : ' the applause of which one shall, in the 
account of an artist, overweigh a whole theatre of others/ 

'^ XII. The language of the critic should be that of the 

'* This, though an obvious remark, is not the least fre- 
quently infringed ; whoever has attended to the conversation 
of some denominated connoisseurs must be sensible of this ; 
he cannot but have noticed the use of epithets which gen- 
tlemen should by no means adopt." 

The following anecdote (said to have happened at the 
first exhibition in the great room of the Society for the 
Encouragement of Arts, &:c.) may serve as a supplement 
to the sentiments quoted above. 

A connoisseur who hiid surveyed the pictures, &c. with 
great contempt, turning to a flower-piece, exclaimed with 
vehemence, in the usual connoisseur style, *' Vile 1 wretched ! 
paltry!" and so on; "and that filthy spot, I suppose," 
says he, " is meant for a fly ! that dab of dirt ! there, that 
there !" when raising his cane to point it out more evidently, 
the insect took to his wings for a speedy retreat. 

CRUDE, is spoken of colours when they are not accu- 
rately adjusted to their neighbours, but glare and shew 
themselves improperly : they require moderation and lower- 
ing, by breaking, glazing, Sec. 

Crude is also spoken of outlines when they appear 
careless and incorrect ; they require softening and har- 

A crude effect is a general want of union and harmony. 

CUPOLA, a round roof or dome, in the form of an 
inverted cup. 

D E G S9 


iyARKS are those shadows which, by being deprived of 
lights, or of reflections, become strong, deep, and power- 
ful : these should never appear among the lights, or lighter 
parts : as for instance, among the folds of drapery which 
cross the members, since, by their dissimilarity to the gene- 
ral tone of their situation, they form canals and gashes 
rather than folds. Their proper place is among the larger 
divisions of the picture, and their ofiice is to enforce the 
chiaro oscuro. 

DECORATION may be taken in two senses j first, as 
applied to decorative paintings, such as scenes in a theatre. 
Sec. ; secondly, as referring to those accessories, ornaments, 
or bye-works, as Gerard de Lairesse terms them, which 
contribute to fill up and compose a piece. Among the first 
classmay be included triumphal arches, catafalques, fountains, 
fire-works, Sec. as well real as represented; also in sculp- 
ture, statues, trophies, vases, Sec. The principles of the 
second have already been incidentally noticed ; in general 
they should be modest, i. e. without interference with the 
main subject; but rather should be so related to it as to 
perfect the design of it, to fill up what may be deficient ; 
and, as they admit certain liberties^ these may and should 
contribute allusively to the better understanding of the 
history ; hinting, perhaps, at its origin, or at its conclu- 
sion, 8e:c. 

DEGRADATION, or Keeping, signifies the effect pro- 
duced by the diminution of the force of lights and of sha- 
dows ; of colours also, and of strength in the parts designed 
to appear removed from the front ground of a piece. De- 

DiCT. Edit. 7. N gradation 

90 DEM 

gradation Is absolutely necessary in the distances, and in 
proportion to the Interval between object and object : it is 
accomplished either by weakening the power of those re- 
mote, or by strengthening the power of those nearer to the 
eye. In drawings, a thinness of colour contributes to dis- 
tance ; a solid body of colour contributes to the advance of 
objects which are so treated. In engravings, finer, thinner, 
weaker lines, placed closer together, contribute to express 
distance; and grosser, stronger, and, as it were, more 
solid work, contributes to bring forward the objects on 
which it is employed. 

DELICATE Pencil, Colouring, Finishing, &c. is, 
when either of those parts of art is performed in a 
fine, sweet, soft, and agreeable manner ; when the touches, 
&c. without being too strongly marked, are true, natural, 
and kindly managed. 

DEMI-TINT is properly the tone of colour between the 
lights and the darks, or the passage from light to shadow : 
it is evident, therefore, that as it approaches more to either, 
it partakes most of light or of shadow. The accuracy and 
gradations of demi- tints are very principal ingredients in 
harmony, and contribute greatlv to the relief of brighter or 
of darker colours. The beauty of carnations depends very 
much on the demi- tint, as without it no good flesh is to 
be expected. 

To succeed in this principle requires correct understanding 
of chiaro oscuro, also of the quality of the colours 
employed, and the effects they produce when broken : in 
short, as full half a picture may be in demi- tint to advan- 
tage, it is evident that judicious management of it is in- 
dispensable; it prevents glare, contributes to breadth, and 
to softness and fulness of effect. Extremes strike every one, 
and are easily imitablc; bul the gradations of dcnii-tint are 


D E S 9t 

c:./ found in perfection in the best works of the best 
:,TJ asters. 

DFNTCLE, an ornament resembling teeth, used in Ionic 
and Corinthian cornices. 

DESCENT from the Cross, is a name given by dealers 
in pictures, &cc. to works representing this part of the his- 
tor}' of Christ : — but it not only includes representations of 
the actual taking down of Christ from the cross, but also 
after his body is supposed to have been taken down : often, 
his head lying on the Virgin's lap, or bosom, and many other 
supposed, or supposable incidents, till the period of his 
being entombed — As there is no authority for these, gene- 
rally speaking, we ought to distinguish between the repre- 
sentation of the painter, and gospel history. To deprive 
painters of some privileges, long enjoyed as liberties, would 
be barbarous : but to tolerate some which they have adopted 
ie little short of criminal. 

DESIGN, by the various situations and directions of lines, 
by their combinations, and union, represents figures of all 
existent objects, their forms, and their contours. Design 
is the basis of painting, sculpture, engraving, &c. which 
without it would be merely a confusion of useless exertions. 
The soul of the art, its energy, its expression, its truth, 
is Design. 

The principal parts of Design, are accuracy of propor- 
tion, variety and appropriation of character ; truth, and 
force of expression ; to complete the whole, grace. 

Design, as it regards the practice, vide drawing. 

DESIGNER, is a title given to those artists who com- 
pose upon paper their subjects of whatever nature, finish- 
ing them in chalks, washing, or tinting them lightly in 
colours, Sec. The term is used to prevent their being con- 
founded with painters, Sec. as designs are not to be con- 

N 2 founded 

92 D E T 

founded with pictures. Most smaller engfravlngs which 
ornament books, are copied from designs : and, in general, 
as Design is the basis of painting, a design may be consi- 
dered as an advance toward a picture, more or less com- 
plete; as more or less finished, Sec. 

In manufactories those are called designers who furnish 
patterns for the workmen to imitate. 

When it is said of any master, he is a great Designer^ 
it implies that he has thoroughly studied the forms of na- 
ture, and has acquired an elevated, happy, and correct 
manner of rendering them : so that not only the forms 
are represented, but they are represented with facility, 
liberty, and vigour, as well as truth and accuracy. 

DETACHED is spoken of objects vihich, by their 
distinctness from whatever forms their back grounds, seem 
to advance before it ; they stand out from it, as it were, 
and the interval between it and the object is evident. This 
principle prevents confusion; but in extremes, introduces 
hardness. In landscape the parts should be distinctly de- 
tached, according to their situation, and the extent of the 
prospect, yet witiiout cuttings, and harshnesses. 

DETAIL signifies those smaller parts and trifling minui ice 
of figures, &CC. which however important they may be to 
the operations and functions of nature, yet with regard to 
picturesque effect, are apt, if too much particularized, to 
deprive the more noble parts of their just distinction. For 
instance, we are well assured the eyelashes are useful, but 
at that distance from a person at which we ought to survey 
a picture, we should rather take for granted that he has 
eyelashes, than be said to see them : and the same idea ap- 
plies to a variety of minute articles. 

Seduced by the desire of high finishing, it often happens 
that an artist pays more attention to such insignificants 


BIS 93 

than they deserve ; but this is labour ill bestowed, and 
might be prevented, by recollection of the simple proposi- 
tion, that whatever in a picture, See. is heightened, imme- 
diately lowers others, and destroys the equilibrium : 
the heighteninffs therefore of details injure the nobler and 
more important parts, occasion a dryness and sterility in 
the piece, and indicate a petite genius, rather than a liberal 
enthusiasm ; nor is it always that labour attains its proposed 
effect : a few smart touches, well placed, and boldly ap- 
plied, often hit better expression, &c. than all possible ex- 
actness about trifles; to whose execution a bungler is 

The meanest sculptor in the Emilian square 

Can imitate in brass the nails and hair; 

Expert at trifles, and a learned fool, 

Able to work a part, but not compose a whole. 

DIE is applied to all square, or cubic stones, or &c. whether 
to such as form the body of a pedestal to a column, or such 
as support a statue, flower- pot, &c. in gardens ; or are 
adapted to other employments. 

DIRTY is spoken of colours, when, by mixtures of 
inimical pigments, the result is a disagreeable and heavy 
compound. This fault is by all means to he avoided, espe- 
cially in historical and portrait painting ; in landscape, almost 
any colour may be used in some place or other, but simpli- 
city, and clearness of tints, are ever desirable. 

In repairing an old picture, it is often necessary to dirty 
the colours, in order to match them more closely to the 
faded and embrowned colours of the piece. 

For the method of cleaning Dirty Pictures, vide the 
Compendium of Colours. 

DISCIPLE is equivalent to pupil j and signifies a stu- 

94 D n A 

dent who has been taught the pnnclples of his art, by such 
a master, whose disciple he is said to be. 

DISPOSITION seems to be the effect of reflection, and 
consideration, on those objects, of which the invention has 
conceived -, directing each to occupy that place in the pic- 
ture, which it may most justly challenge: it places the 
actors on the scene, according to their importance j and it 
exerts discretion, and sagacity, in the choice of parts, and 
in managing their preconceived effects. 

DISTANCE is the uttermost termination of a prospect: 
it may also include parts approaching from that termination 
towards ihe offscape. In landscape this is a very important 
part ; in history-painting too extensive distances are apt to 
injure the effect of the principal figures, by attracting and 
dividing the spectator's attention. 

DISTRIBUTION is in its principles not unlike Disposi- 
tion J it may be taken, either as to the objects, or to the 
lights of a piece. The distribution of groupes, their con- 
trast, or sympathy, their forms, their strength, &c. is of 
great concern. In each groupe, the situation of the figures, 
those objects which connect or separate groupes, as well as 
those relating the story, require accurate and perspicuous 

'j'hc distribution of light results from the chiaro oscuro, 
whose principles have been noticed. 

DOME, the spherical, or vaulted roof of a church, &c. 

DRAPERY is a general term applied to all kinds of cloth- 
ing, stuffs, 'ccQ. introduced by arlisis into their compo- 

Dkapkries ouglit to be conformable to the costume, to 
the character represented, and to the appropriate appearance 
cf each kind of manufacture. 


D R A 95 

Of the COSTUME we have treated, under Its proper arlicle. 

Draperies should be conformable to the character of 
their wearer ; they contribute very greatly to a distinct ex- 
pression of it. When particular dresses are worn by certain 
persons, as ministers, lawyers, officers, Sec. the costume 
is the ruling principle ; but in general/ the draperies of a 
magistrate ought to have noble, large, and majestic folds ; 
their movements being slow, grave, and orderly, possessing 
a dignity corresponding to the station of the wearer ; not 
discomposed by levity, not fluttering, and agitated by the 
2ephyrs, not transparent, and flimsy : while, on the con- 
trary, the draperies of nymphs should not be heavy, and 
cumbersome, but light, airy, easily put in motion, and 
corresponding by their disposition to the action and charac- 
ter represented. 

How broad soever be the folds of drapery, they should 
never so conceal the forms of the parts, and members be- 
neath them, as to render undecided their just proportions : 
but the nobler parts of the figure should have their influ- 
ence on the drapery which covers them j imparting to the 
folds their directions, and dimensions, insomuch that the 
correctness of the naked, and its accuracy of form, should 
present itself clearly to the spectator. — Nevertheless, 

An extreme and rigorous observation of this precept, ill 
understood, would produce the most unhappy consequences. 
When it is directed to conform to the indications and effects 
of the naked, it must be an object of constant attention'to 
prevent the drapery from seeming to be pasted on it, or as 
if it adhered to the person by any attractive power. Indeed, 
in sculpture, this kind of drapery is tolerated ; because of 
the excessive inconvenience attending ample and broad fold- 
ings, which from the nature of the materials wrought 
upon, would appear like so many rocks. Neither can sculp- 
4 turc 

96 D R A 

ture adequately represent the dlfFerences of stuffs, and their 
various superficies ; so that being confined to what it is capa- 
ble of gracefully treating, it delights most in beauty of 
form, and takes every occasion of introducing the naked. 
Its draperies, therefore, are composed on this principle: 
and whenever the naked can be rendered visible, there it 
shall be represented. And because even the finest linen does 
not adhere to the naked, the ancient sculptors made use of 
tvet linen, that by its more immediate connexion with the 
members, it might more perfectly express them, and per- 
mit them to glimpse, as it were, through it. It is evident, 
that this idea totally excludes all agitated and flying dra» 
pevies, with whifch the Cavalier Bernini is reproached 5 
and, when we consider, that, however delicately the chisel 
may be worked, yet a mass of marble must remain^ its in- 
competency to such objects appears beyond denial. 

But, in painting the case is otherwise ; it admits a great- 
ness, which results from amplitude of parts, and of this 
amplitude the drapery may also participate ; the folds may 
be large, but not so extensive as to weigh down the figure, 
or to overload any part of it; or that it should appear 
stifled by its drapery. 

The folds should be so disposed, that the eye may with- 
out hesitation follow their courses, and clearly distinguish 
their principal parts and divisions. Small folds glisten too 
much, and are too intricate, to produce a good eflect in 
picture. Those painters who have too closely copied the 
antique draperies, are apt to render their works hard, stiff", 
poor, and thin ; little more animated than marble itself. 

With regard to draperies adapted to portraits, it were to 
be wished, that as well persons painted, as painters, were 
sensible of the force of propriety, and decorum, in choosing 
dresses correspondent to their situations, and characters : 


D R A 97 

hereby painters, in suiling their complexions, ages, profes- 
sions, 8cc. with applicable draperies, would enhance the 
merit of their works, and contribute to their perfection, by 
that association and composition of parts, which is one 
source of success. 

Painters who employ their talents, in representing com- 
mon incidents, and actions, ought in general to conform 
their draperies to the reigning taste j yet so as to bestow on 
each, the utmost grace of which it is capable, as well as 
the greatest veracity. They possess infinite advantage in 
having their originals always before their eyes, and being 
able to consult nature at any time, and on all occasions ; 
while the strict observance of the costume confines the 
history painter; who must study diligently before he can 
understand his subject, which perhaps, after all, forces upon 
him representations void of grace, or dignity. This diffi- 
culty seems counterbalanced, by the general ignorance of 
spectators, who rarely are more capable of criticizing the 
costume than the artist ; and therefore do not observe inci- 
dental deviations from it; which often perplex the painter 
of modern fashions, and present life, where the rapid varia- 
tions of modes and dresses require an expertness, not ex- 
pected from the artist who treats antique subjects. Suppose, 
for instance, a Roman story : the most general and best 
known forms of the Roman dress must be selected ; not 
those of very remote antiquitv, not the mlnutice of the 
various parts of dress, their fashions, and temporary taste, 
even in those times of which our information is most ex- 
press ; the general idea and the leading principles are those 
most applicable to such compositions ; and happily are most 
readily to be procured. With regard to Gods and God- 
desses, poetic authority, picturesque effect, and apparent 

DicT, Edit. 7. o propriety, 

98 D R A 

propriety, must unite, to render their habiliments appro- 
priate, elegant, and striking. 

However draperies may be appHed, regard must always 
be maintained to the quality and natural appearance of the 
stuff' represented. For how can the eye distinguish satin 
from linen, unless its glossy effect be attended to ? unless 
the brilliancy and sparkling of its lights be justly treated? 
Since its smooth texture caimot be felt, nor a spectator be 
informed of any of its qualities, except those which are 
visible, how is he to know it, and to call it satin, unless 
the painter's skill evince it? The same might be said of 
every other manufacture ; and although we do not expect 
from an artist, the same intimate acquaintance with that 
variety of drapery articles, which is necessary to a linen- 
draper, or a mercer; or that he should paint his laces pre- 
cisely to a Brussels pattern, or to Point, yet if he do not 
maintain an evident distinction, and peculiarity of charac- 
ter, he cannot claim applause as a painter of drapery. 

The liberty which an artist possesses, of giving to his 
draperies such colours as he pleases, so as to promote union, 
or force, at his discretion, is a prodigious advantage in 
favour of drapery : moreover, it is an article which admits 
uf infinite variety in its foldings, and their eflects : 
some may be bright, others in shade, Sec. yet if happily 
conducted, witbout the least apparent constraint or impro- 

Draperies are of great utility, to unite groupes, to fill 
up vacancies, and to prevent too considerable intervals 
between parts of a picture : they contribute, also, to variety, 
to magnificence, and to splendour. 

ilie terms with regartl to drapery are, to set, or cast a" 

drapery ; ?. e. to j^lacc tlic folds in a natural, becoming, 

4 and 

UlCTJON \RV p« 01) 


\^<> f*^ 

D R A 99 

and graceful order, and to form them into sizes, Sec. adapted 
to their subject. Flying drapery is that which is agitated by 
the air, or by motion, which is kept buoyant, and as it were 
floating. Drapery should not be stiff, uneasy, poor, angu- 
lar in its lines, nor seem as if imitated from the lifeless 
block of a Layman : but as if anmiated nature had been 
consulted and faithfully copied. 

For the use of the Layman^ see that article, and the 
article Cast a Drapery. 

The leading principle of drapery, is a disposition to 
le at rest, and this disposition it maintains, however it 
may be agitated, or conducted into form; thus when a large 
piece of cloth is hung by a dyer upon tenter-hooks, it 
falls regularly by its own weight, and becomes smooth, 
excluding both wrinkle and fold. If in the same cloth, a fold 
be formed on purpose, yet at a small distance from its origin 
it widens, frees itself from constraint as soon as possible, 
and spreads into a similarity to the general smoothness of the 
whole piece. The number of folds in drapery is always gc- 
cording to its fineness, the stiffness of coarser cloths not 
permitting so many divisions, and requiring more strength 
to fold them; fine linen, therefore, is always most replete 
with folds, yet always preserves its disposition to rest, and 
foils, however it be gathered and plaited. Drapery agitated 
by the wind, is constantly impelled by the same principle, 
and the wind can no longer keep it buoyant than while it is 
able to overcome the descending power of the drapery. We 
have thought a plate or two might illustrate these principles. 

In No. I, we have a piece of drapery supported at each 
end; in the middle, let ween the two supports, it drops: at 
the two supports, the folds are more numennis and closer 
than any where else, they are consequently narrower, hut 

O 2 expand 

loo D R A 

expand themselves and widen towards the bottom, where , 
they become broad, and almost smooth and tranquil. 

In No. 2, the drapery is of a finer quality; there is also 
more in quantity, so that the folds are more numerous, and 
the resemblance of the lower folds to the upper is less 
destroyed. We observe in those folds which hang per- 
pendicular, that though they begin narrow, they end broad. 

Nos. 3 and 4, are two views of the drapery of the Apollo, 
and (in conformity to the observation on Attitude) ex- 
hibit the same foldings of the drapery in different aspects: 
their variations, foreshortenings, lights, shadows, 8cc. de- 
serve notice. 

From the original drawing hy Po2issin ': This philosophical 
figure having been composed by that great artist far Leo- 
nardo DA Vinci " on Painting," we shall quote the pas- 
sage which relates to it, as also that illustrated by the Two 
Jigiires in conversation by the same hand. 

" That part of a fold which is the most remote from its 
centre, or from the place of its restraint, whence the fold 
commences, will recover more of its natural state, than any 
other part. This is owing to a faculty, which all natural 
things are found to have, in common with each other; to 
■wit, self-preservation, or an endeavour to preserve their own 
manners of being; in consequence of which, a stuff uni- 
form, and alike in its thickness and strength, endeavours to 
continue flat and even ; so that when, on account of some 
fold or ]<lait, it is forced to quit its natural habitude, it strug- 
gles continually to retrieve itself; and still in proportion as 
it recedes from the j^lace of its constraint, it approaches 
nearer to its original plainness, by expanding and unfolding 
itself. Thus, for instance, suppose A B C the fold of a 
drapery, and A B the place where it receives its force or con- 

JJ/apay. DirTIONARYpa:ioo. 

, fiom the ofiffirtij/ J)/ •iw viij/ IfvToupvi . 

])ir TION'.\ loi. JJrapay 



Drapery. DiCTiONARY.paioi. 



DlCTlONAKYpaioi . J)/-(f/^efy 


D R A. lot 

strictlon, I have already shewn that the part most remote 
from the rise or root of a fold, will have recovered the greatest 
share of its natural form ; whence it follows, that C being 
the most distant part of the fold, will likewise be wider, 
plainer, and more expanded -than any other part." 

'* Where a figure is shortened, let the folds be closer to- 
gether, and drawn round the member in greater numbers, 
than where it is not shortened ; thus the figure M N throws 
the middle of each circulating fold, further from its extreme, 
as it is more remote from the eye ; R O shews the extremes 
almost straight, being found directly over against the eye ; 
and P Q has an effect contrary to the first, N M." i. e. the 
folds become circular. 

In the Philosopher standing, and in him pointings we 
have additional examples of drapery principles; these figures, 
therefore, require no further elucidation, as what has already- 
been said, explains them. 

DRAWING, as an art, has been already treated in the 
Lectures. It may be considered as expressing the forms 
and the contours of objects, also the representation of their 
corresponding lights and shadows, as well in form, as in 
force : with their natural reflections, 8cc. 

DRAWINGS, are either (i.) flight Sketches, thoughts, 
or hints of a master, in which case they convey his simpk 
and indeterminate ideas only: or, (ii.) finished, and ar- 
ranged, as well in composition, as chiaro oscuro, and every 
other part of painting, except colouring. 

Drawings hold a middle station between pictures and 
prints : they exhibit the fire and animation of a master, his 
style, his manner, and spirit; the fecundity, dignity, and 
elevation of his genius, and the facility of his hand. • The 
manners of drawing most in use, are with chalks, with the 


loz E A S 

pen, and with washes of bistre, or Indian ink. Other man- 
ners have been aheady suggested. 

DROPS, or Gutta, in the Doric entablature, are small 
pyramids or cones, hanging immediately under the triglyph, 

DRY is a term employed to characterize outlines of figures, 
which are too strongly expressed, which are cutting, hard, 
and not softened so as to mark the roundness of the parts they 
represent. It also expresses the sharpness of those transitions 
from light to shade, which are too sudden, too violent, by 
reason of the absence of those dcmi-tints, which ought to be 
interposed between light and shade, in order to unite both 
by partaking somewhat 'of each. 


XLASEL, is a frame-work of light wood, contrived to hold 
the picture on which a painter works; it has usually three 
legs, two before, and one behind; the one behind occasion- 
ally takes off": it is always longer than the other two, and is 
capable of being set further off, or brought nearer, whereby 
the inclination of the easel is regulated. The two front less 
are pierced with holes, into which are put pegs, and on 
these rests a kind of flat narrow board, termed a shelf: on 
this the picture stands, and is moved higher or lower 
according to the height of the holes in the front legs, in 
which the pegs are placed. 

Easkl riECES are such as have been wrought on the 
easel ; such as are not too large for that purpose. They 
are so termed, in contradistinction from great works, as ceil- 
ings, 8cc, and from miniatures, &cc. Many artists, excellent 
in great svorks, are not equal to themselves in easel pieces. 


ELK 103 

EASY is spoken of a genius which conceives with readi- 
ness, and of a hand which executes with promptitude: an 
easy genius invents with freedom; varies its inventions iu- 
finilely; and, in short, dlfltrs from its former self, conti- 
nually. An easy pencil shews itself by a large free touch, 
and by producing its iritended effect, without the appearance 
of labour. Rubens is a remarkable instance of the appli- 
cation of this term. 

EFFECT may be considered as divided into two branches. 
General and Particular : the first being the result of 
the whole piece, and arising from the united efforts of its 
various parts and principles ; each department producing 
that happy interest which is adapted to it, so that the Pic- 
ture possesses a good effect. As to particular effects, they 
may be taken, (i.) with regard to principles; and in this 
sense it is usual to understand the term as relating to chiaro 
oscuro. (11.) With respect to parts of .a composition, it 
may be said, such, or such a part, has not in nature that 
effect which an artist has given to it: or the effect of such 
a part is not so good in such a place, as it might have been 
in another, &c. 

In studying from nature the effects of particular parts 
(they often prove very different from ideal conception of 
them)j great care should be taken that they be conformable 
to the main principles of the piece ', for instance, that the 
point ofsight be not higher or lower, or more oblique, &c. the 
error may at first -seem small, yet may really prove serious. 

The effect of a picture on a spectator, should be con- 
formable to its subject, inspiring gaiety, or sadness, medita- 
tion, or mirth. 

ELEGANCE, according to Monsieur Du Piles, is the 
art of representing objects with a good choice, superior to 
ordinary attempts, with delicacy and address communicating 


104 E P I 

to the work those natural yet striking graces, which may 
give satisfaction to the spectator. In this respect, elegance 
of form is a superior sudy. 

ELEVATION of sentiment, is a certain noble manner of 
thought, and expression, which marks the artist's genius: 
it is repugnant and contrary to whatever is low, mean, ab- 
surd, or unbecoming. 

Elevation of a house, is a term used in architecture, to 
signify the geometrical, measured, and exact appearance of 
the front of any building. The plan of a building gives its 
horizontal dimensions ; but the elevation gives not only its 
perpendicular dimensions, but also the effect resulting from 
the distribution of its parts, its ornaments, and its general 
aspect. It should always be remembered, in considering an 
elevation, that it is strictly a geometrical idea, not such a re- 
presentation of a building as the eye will see it to be when 
erected: because the perspective of the various parts causes 
differences which run throughout the edifice, and more 
or less change its appearance. 

EMBLEM is in painting, what metaphor is in writing; 
signifying something Ijcyond what appears, relating to men- 
tal disposition, or to circumstances improper to be introduced 
historically, and therefore hinted at by figures, or other ob- 
jects: its sense is determined by its application or context, 
whether moral, historical, elegant, or satirical. 

ENEMIES, are colours which, when mingled, produce 
a disagreeable mixture; and being placed near each other, 
are hard and unpleasant. 

In general, those colours whose result when mixed is dis- 
agreeable, are improper as neighbours in any composition. 

FuiKNDLY COLOURS arc totally the reverse. 

EPISODE, in painting, as in poetry, signifies, an action 
accessory to the principal, whicl^ forms the subject of the 


E X H 105 

picture. Episodes are by much more tolerable in poetry than 
in painting, because they may be contrived to arise natu- 
rally out of the subject, and to relieve the reader's mmd : but, 
in picture, episodes arc too apt to attract the spectator's eye 
and attention from the main business represented, and to 
divert his inspection from where it ought (o be fixed. In 
some subjects, nevertheless, episodes contribute to the fuller 
relation and expression of the history, and provided they be 
kept subordinate, they may be admitted. 

Episodes are sometimes introduced where thev could 
not possibly occur: sometimes a wall must be pulled down 
to render them visible, and sometimes they produce dreadful 
anachronisms. These are errors to be avoided, since they 
are repugnant to reflection and judgment. 

EQUESTRIAN, in sculpture, is spoken of a figure on 
horseback: the term is not used when speaking of a picture. 

EGIUILIBRIUM is spoken (i.) of a figure, which is well 
(or ill) balanced, and adjusted; (11.) of a picture, whose 
parts, back ground, &c. are adapted to the rest, which 
ought to be with symmetry, harmony, relief, &c. not per- 
mitting one side to be crowded, another empty; or glaring 
here and there, while other places are destitute of effect. 

EXHIBHTON is an assemblage of works of art, ex- 
posed to public view. The spring months of the year, April, 
May, or June, are distinguished among artists, by that 
EXHIBITION of thtir respective performances, which an- 
nually attracts the attention of the public. 

It is no uncommon situation of many valuable talents to 
be concealed from ihat protection and applause their merit 
deserves, till some happy occurrence introduces them to 
public notice and esteem: some sudden ray of light break? 
into their obscurity, and discovers excellence which might 
otherwise have been forgotten in oblivion. 

DiCT. Edit. 7. p What ■ 

io6 E X H 

What was the situation of meritorious artists fifty or sixty 
years a^o? or of art in general, in consequence of the insig- 
nificance (to say no worse) of its professors ? Not thai 
men of talents were unnoticed or unrespected among them- 
selves, but that they were unknown or disregarded (too 
much at least) by their employers. At that time the artists 
of Britain seemed few in number, and among them, only 
here and there a master of repute. These, however, held 
assemblies at stated periods, and supported, by subscription 
among themselves, a private academy inSt. Martin's Lane(in 
which seminary, by the bye, most of our late eminent pro- 
fessors received the earlier principles of iheir education), and 
by much diligence maintained a freedom from that vassalage, 
wherein those not fortunate enough to rise to public notice, 
were enthralled by picture-dealers ; a set of gtntry much re- 
sorted to by whoever wished to furnish themselves with the 
productions of art. With what spirit could an artist en- 
gage in his work, when he was well persuaded, the emolu- 
ment and reputation arising from it would accrue to another, 
and himself only enjoy (if he could be said to enjoy) the 
scantv pittance allowed him by a trader whose principle was 
to purchase as cheap as possible? Imagination might soar 
in vain; its exertions were repressed by attention to neces- 
saries. The chilling blasts of humble mediocrity, if not of 
absolute penury, constricted the liberal flow of genius, 

*• And froze the genial current of the soul." 

In this confined situation^ it was extremely natural their 
thoughts and discourses, whenever they met together, 
should turn on the subject of their difiiculties; mutual com- 
plaints excited wishes and projects for the removal of those 
impediments which surrounded them. In these conversa- 
tions, the method most generally proposed, was the establish- 

E X H 107 

Xnent of a public academy, as the most likely mean to at- 
tract public attention: but however desirable such an insti- 
tution might be deemed, it seemed attended with so many 
difficulties, as proved an effectual bar to its success; and, 
therefore, after some fruitless attempts to procure assistance 
from those who were esteemed patrons of the arts, the de- 
sign was dropped. 

This is not a place for exclamations of sorrow that any 
useful design should be dropped, nor for examining wherefore 
the patrons of art refrained from promoting a scheme whose 
establishment offered no sma'l gratification to their taste, nor 
for investigating those principles of British liberty, which, 
however invaluable in general, were found, on this occasion, 
not a little unwieldy. But we cannot refrain from blaming 
that haughtiness of self-opinion, which prevented artists 
from a modest estimate of their own worth; insomuch that 
when the list oi superiors to this institution was formed, all 
appeared as directors, or professors, or officers of some 
kind or other, and there were left no fellows to form the 
body of the society ! This circumstance (according to in- 
formation we have received) contributed greatly to annihilate 
the proposed establishment. 

Accident has often produced what the utmost efforts of 
industry have failed to accomplish; and something of the 
same kind seems to have happened here. Liberty has ever 
been considered as a friend of the arts ; it is natural, there- 
fore, for artists to revere the memory of asscrtors and chami» 
pions of freedom, particularly those of our own country. 
Actuated by this principle, the artists had an annual meet- 
ing at the Foundling Hospital, to commemorate the landing 
of King William. To that hospital several of their body 
had made donations in painting, sculpture, &c. which being 
accessible to the public, contributed to make those artists 

P % more 

io8 K X H 

more generally known than others. From this circumstance 
occasion was taken to suggest, that if those artists found so 
much benefit resulting from the inspection of their perform- 
ances, it was probable, others would be equal gainers in the 
public opinion, could they enjoy a similar advantage. This 
idea was no sooner proposed, than it was assented to, and 
approved, and a public exhibition was accordingly resolved 
on. Tlic committee who were llie proposers of the plan, 
received directions to issue proper notices of this intention ; 
and many ingenious works were exposed to public view, 
April 2 1, 1760, in the great room belonging to the Society 
of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, in the Strand. 

The success of this undertaking was equal to the most 
sanguine wishes of its institutors; the publir. was pleased, 
the artifets were applauded ; those already known extended 
their reputation ; those hitherto concealed, became the im- 
mediate acquaintance of the public. 

The collection consisted of one hundred and thirty per- 
formances. Forty-two painters who contributed to this as- 
semblage, and about thirty professors of other branches, 
composed the whole of those engaged in this attempt. 

Now opened a new and pleasing prospect to the artists; 
had any one merit, he prepared to shew- it ; or if sensible of 
his deficiency, he exerted his utmost abilities to attain a level 
with those in whose applause the public were loudest. If 
one, whom he supposed his equal, appeared to excel him, 
his vigorous endeavours regained his place. Connoisseurs, 
;uul picture-dealers, no longer bore their former sway in 
raising or in ruining an artist's reputation and fortune; 
their interference was discarded: the public sought after 
those masters whose labours had most interested their re- 
gard. A visible improvement in every department of art, 
was the consequence of this encouragement ; and each suc- 


E X H J09 

ceedlno' exhibition demonstrated the talents of British artists, 
and their grateful returns to the fostering care of a discerning 

But beside the advancement of art, the exhibition was ot 
no small service by its profits to those widows and families 
of deceased artists, whose situations required pecuniary as- 
sistance. And though this circumstance may have been too 
much overlooked of late, yet as it is in itself honourable to 
fender service to our fcUow-mortals in general, so we may 
reasonably suppose, the public were not insensible to the 
pleasure of contributing to this part of the institution. 

The second exhibition contained two hundred and twenty- 
nine subjects. Removed to Spring-Gardens great room. 
where the exhibitions continued many years. 

Admission was gratis to the first exhibition, to whoever 
had a catalogue, which was sold for six-pence; but, by per- 
sons lendnig to friends, Sec. no little inconvenience was ex- 
perienced. To the second exhibition, catalogues were one 
shilling : at present the exhibition of the Royal Academy 
is charged one shilling for admittance, and the catalogue 
is charged six-pence also. 

It is pleasant to review the language of those who were 
now advancing rapidly in public favor.r, and this was the 
tenor of it, 1762: " An exhibition of the works of art, be- 
luga spectacle new in this kingdom, has raised various opi- 
nions and conjectures among those who are unacquainted 
with the practice in foreign nations. Those who set out. 
their performances to general view, have been too often con- 
sidered as rivals of each other; as men actuated, if not by 
avarice, at least by vanity, and contcnciino- for superiority ot 
fame, though not for a pecuniary prize. 

" It cannot be denied or doubled, that ali 7.-ho ofier them- 
5clvcs to criticism are desirous of praise : this desire is not 


no ^ E X H 

only innocentj but virtuous, while it is undebased by artifice^ 
and unpolluted by envy; and of envy or artifice those rnen 
can never be accused, who, already enjoying all the honours 
and profits of their profession, are content to stand candi- 
dates for public notice, with genius yet unexperienced, and 
diligence yet unrewarded : who, without any hope of in- 
creasing their own reputation or interest, expose their names 
and their works, only that they may furnish an opportunity 
of appearance to the young, the diffident, and the neglected. 
*' The purpose of this exhibition is not to enrich the 
artists, but to advance the art ; the eminent are not flattered 
with preference, nor the obscure insulted with contempt ; 
whoever hopes to deserve public favour, is here invited to 
display his merit. 

'• Of the price put on this exhibition, some account may 
be demanded. Whoever sets his work to be shewn, natu- 
rally desires a multitude of spectators, but his desire de- 
feats its own end, when spectators assemble in such num- 
bers as to obstruct one another. Though we are far from 
wishing to diminish the pleasures, or depreciate the senti- 
ments of any class of the community, we know, however, 
what every one knows, that all cannot be judges or pur- 
chasers of works of art ; yet we have already found by ex- 
perience that all are desirous to see an exhibition. When 
the terms of admission were low, our room was thronged 
with such multitudes as made access dangerous, and 
frightened away those whose app«"obation was most desired. 
** Yet, because it is seldom believed that money is got but 
for the love of money, we shall tell the use which we intend 
to make of our expected profits. 

'* Many crtists of great abilities are unable to sell their 
works for their due price: to remove this inconvenience, 
an annual sale will be appointed, to which every man may 

5 scud 

E X H in 

send his works, and send them, if he will, without his name. 
These works will be reviewed by the committee that con- 
duct the exhibition ; a price will be secretly set to every 
piece, and registered by the secretary. If the piece exposed 
is sold for more, the whole price shall be the artist's; but if 
the purchasers value it at less than the committee, the artist 
shall be paid the deficiency from the profits of the exhi- 

Happy had it been if the moderation of these sentiments 
had deeply impressed those under whose direction they were 
communicated to the public ! the conmionweallh of arts 
might then have flourished beyond the utmost expectations 
of its friends; beyond the abilities of despotic combinations. 
As to the plan of selling, &c. it was tried, but soon quitted, 
the chief benefit falling to the share of Messrs. Langfords 
the auctioneers. 

When a charter was obtained, their majesties and the 
royal family honoured the exhibitions with their presence, 
and the arts and artists seemed at their zenith of reputation. 
Afterwards dissention separated from this society the elder 
artists, who procured the royal authority for the institution 
of an academy, which at length was lodged in the new 
buildings erected at Somerset House ; and here the exhibi- 
tion has been annually opened, and has experienced a very 
considerable share of public favour. The money received 
at the door is employed in paying the expenses of the aca- 
demy, salaries to superlntendanis, the costs of models. See. 
Some widows of former officers also benefit by it, and some 
young artists are supported while on their studies abroad, iu 
Italy, &c. What is not thus employed, accumulates as a 
fund for the purposes of art, or for other benevolent pur- 
poses. Though exhibitions have varied as to their merit, 
yet they have always afforded ample amusement in return 
for the money they cost a spectator. 



EXPRESSION, as it relates to the human figure, has 
been treated in the Lfxtures. 

General Expression is assisted by certain adjuncts, or 
circumstances attendant on the actors in the piece : such 
are (i.) Personals, dress, equipage, ensigns of dignity, 
crowns, arms, &c. (ii.) Amusements, books for a student, 
musical instruments for a lover of that recreation; horses, 
doers, &c. for the chase, (m.) Allusions, of which 
mrny are to be found in Hogarth's works, (iv.) Writing, 
x.hen no other way is left to certify or distinguish persons 

and things. i t u 

A few instances mav illustrate this principle. In Ho- 
garth's «' Progress of Cruelty," he has identified the prm- 
cipal character, first, as a boy writing his name - Tom 
Nero," on a wall : afterwards he is identified by the letter 
to him, « Dear Tommy," and when being dissected, by the 
letters T. N. supposed to be made by gvmpowder on his 
arm. On the same principle has Annibal Carrachi 
^vritten on a footstool, in his picture of Anchises and Venus, 
Genus wide Latinum (referring to the origm of the 
line), because, Venus having many lovers, by what other 
„,eans might Anchises be distinguished so evidently ? 

Mr. Richardson observes, - there are certain httlc cir- 
cumstances that contribute to the expression. Such an 
effect the burning lamps have that are in the carton of heal- 
M,. at the Beautiful gate of the temple; one sees the place 
is holv, as well as maonificent. 

i' The lar-e fowl that are seen on the foreground in the 
carton of the" draught of fi.hcs have a good effect There 
Ha certain sea-wildness in them; and as their W was 
/ish thev contribute mi.htilv to express the aOa.r ni hand, 
vslwch ^^•^s fislilne. 'i'l-y are a line part o( the scene. 
- Pas.erotto has drawn a Clhnsl'. head, as gomg to Ik; 


EXP 113 

crucified, the expression of which is marvellously fine ; but 
(excepting the air of the face) nothing is more moving; not 
the part of the cross that is seen j nor the crown of thorns, 
nor the drops of blood falling from the wounds that it 
makes jTiothing can express more than an ignominious cord 
which comes upon part of the shoulder and neck. 

** Ifthcrebe any thing particular in the history of the per- 
son which is proper to be expressed, as it is still a farther 
description of him, it is a great improvement to the portrait, 
to them who know that circumstance. There is an instance 
of this in a picture of Vandyke, of John Lyvens, who is 
drawn as if he was listening at something; which refers to a 
remarkable story in that man's life. 

^' In the carton where the people of Lycaonia are going to 
sacrifice to St. Paul and Barnabas, the occasion of this is 
finely told : The man who was healed of his lameness is one 
of the forwardest to express his sense of the divine power 
which appeared in those apot la ; and to shew it to be him, 
not only a crutch is under his feet on the ground, but an old 
man takes up the lappet of his garment, and looks upon the 
limb which he remembered to have been crippled, and ex- 
presses great devotion and admiration ; which sentiments 
are also seen in the other, with a mixture of joy. 

** When the story of Joseph's interpretation of Pharaoh's 
dreams was to be related. Raphael hath painted those dreams 
in two circles over the figures : which he hath also done 
when Joseph relates his own dream to his brethren. 

The hyperbolical artifice of Timanthes to express the vast- 
ness of the Cyclops is well known, and was mightily ad- 
mired by the ancients; he made several satyrs about him, 
as if he was asleep ; some were running away as frightened, 
others gazing at a distance, and one was measuring his thumb 

DicT. M^dit. 7. Q with 

114 EXT 

with his thyrsus, but seeming to do it with great caution> 
lest he should awake. 

** I will add but one example more of this kind, and that 
is of Nicolas Pou?sin to express a voice, which he has done 
in the baptism of our Saviour, by making the people look 
up and about, as it is natural for men to do when they hear 
any such, and know not whence it comes, especially if it be 
otherwise extraordinary, as the case was in this history. 

" Another way practised by painters to express their sense, 
which could not otherwise be done in painting, is by figures 
representative of certain things. This they learned from the 
ancients, of which there are abundance of examples, as in 
the Antoninian, or rather Aurelian pillar, where, to express 
the rain that fell when the Roman army was preserved, as 
they pretended, by the prayers of the Meletenian or thun- 
dering legion, the figure of Jupiter Pluvius is introduced. 

" One instance more of an improvenient upon the subject 
well deserves to be added. I have seen a picture of Albani, 
a Madona ; the child is asleep; the subject is a common, a 
plain one; to heighten it, the painter has represented Christ 
dreaming of his future nassion. How is this indicated ? 
By placing just by his head a sort of glass vase, wherein is 
seen faintly, and, as it were, by reflection (seen through a 
glass darkly}, the cross, and other instruments of his suf- 

S.ometimcs the general expression is spoilt by oversight 5 
as in the instance of a bird sitting on an car of corn without 
bendhig it : or, thai of a straight Jir'mg from a blind beg- 
gar's hand, to his dog's neck ; which would certainly choak 
tlse dog ; or that of r. dead body seeming to help ItselJ into 
the sepulclue : or by oiher inattentions. 

EXTREMITIES, in a figure, are the head, the hands, 
tilt- fed, the knees, and other junctures. Tiie extremities 


F A C 115 

should never be concealed: if they must be clothed, yet 
they should shew themselves through the drapery, by their 
protuberaiK:e and effect : they are the obvious machinery of 
nature, and by them and their exertions, the forms, the ac- 
tions, the symmetry, of the person is manifested^ not co- 
vertly but openly. 


Jc ACE, the, is the most beautiful part of the person, as it 
contains the greatest variety of form, of colour, of character, 
and of animation : it is indeed the seat of picturesque life j 
and the seat too of expression mental, personal, and sympa- 
thetic. Hence it is the peculiar study of artists, and 
many who succeed in it can represent scarcely any thing 
else, as is notorious among portrait-painters. Some suc- 
ceed best in profile faces; others prefer three-quarter faces ; 
others full faces. Some suppose a slight turn of the eyes 
contributes to the grace of a face, 8cc. History-painters 
and sculptors rather speak of heads than of faces : and in- 
deed this is thought the more becoming term, though the 
other be very common. 

Face. Some artists have chosen to measure Ihe propor- 
tions of the human figure by faces, instead of heads : in 
which scale of measurement they would fall as follows ; 

From the crown of the head to the forehead, is tlie third 
part of a face. 

The face begins at the root of the lowest hairs, which 
are upon the forehead ; and ends at the bottom of the chin. 

The face is divided into three proportionable parts : the 
first contains the forehead, the second the nose, and the 
third the mouth and the chin. 

<^ % From 

ii6 FAC 

From the chin, to the pit betwixt the collar-bones, are 
two leno-ths of a nose. 

From the pit betwixt the collar-bones, to the bottom of 
the breast, one face. 

From the bottom of the breasts, to the navel, one face. 

From the navel to the lowest part of the body, one face. 

From the lowest part of the body to the upper part of 
the knee, two faces. 

The knee contains half a face. 

From the lower part of the knee to the ankle, two faces. 

From the ankle to the sole of the foot half a face. 

A man when his arms are stretched out, is, from the 
longest finger of his right hand to the longest of his left, 
as broad as he is long. 

From one side of the breasts to the other, two faces. 

The bone of the arm, called humerus, is the length of 
two faces, from the shoulder to the elbow. 

From the end of the elbow to the root of the little finger, 
the bone called cubitus, with part of the hand, contains 
two faces. 

From the box of the shoulder-blade, to the pit betwixt 
the collar-bones, one face. 

If you would be satisfied in the measures of breadth, 
from the extremity of one finger to the other ; so that this 
breadth should be equal to tiie length of the body, you must 
observe, that the boxes of ti)i: elbows with the lunneruSy 
and of the humerus with the shoulder-blade, bear the pro- 
portion of half a face,' when the arms arc stretched out. 

The sole of the foot is the sixth part of the figure. 

The hand is the length of a face. 

The thumb is the length of a nose. 

The inside of the arm, from the place where the musclr 


F A L 117 

disappears, u-hich makes the breast (called the pectoral 
muscle), to the middle of the arm, four noses. 

From the middle of the arm to the beginning of the 
hand, five noses. 

The longest toe is a nose long. 

The two nipples, and the pit betwixt the collar-bones of 
a woman, make an equilateral triangle. 

For the breadth of the limbs, no precise measures can be 
given J because the measures themselves are changeable, ac- 
cording to the quality of the persons j and according to the 
movement of the muscles. 

How character varies these proportions has already been 
noticed in the Lectures. 

FACILITY signifies the readiness, promptitude, and ala- 
crity of an artist's mind, in conception, or of his hand, in 
representation; the fertility of his ideas, their justness, and 
application to the subject, their disposition. Sec. 

Facility of hand requires a free and spirited touch, liberty, 
and vigour of pencil, &c. ; but this boldness and vivacity be- 
comes a fault where it is not regulated by scientific accu- 
racy : so that to acquire facility, are necessary, intimate 
knowledge of the objects represented, their forms, combi- 
nations, &c. and an habituated practice. Thus it appears 
that judicious theory, and confirmed experience, contribute 
to facility. 

FALSE LIGHT. When a picture is so placed in an 
apartment, &;c. that the natural light which it receives,, 
comes from the side contrary to that artificial light v^hich 
enlightens the picture itself, it is sr.'.d to be viewed by, or to 
be placed in, a false light: and this is very detrimental to 
the effect of a picture, as it takes off greatly frorn the veri- 
simllity of the objects represented in it ^ and, in fact, tends 
to counteract much of the artist's management of the chiaro 
ol'scuro. Art i;i its best prcducticns requires every a=5sist- 

. • -• • ance 

tiS FIB 

aiice that may be derived from place, or situation ; conae* 
quently, it must suffer greatly when seen in a false light, 
and thereby its utmost, or happiest exertions suptrsedeU 
by inadvertence, or mismanagement. 

FflCBLE is spoken of effects, general and partial, and 
of a performance itself. A capable master may occasionally 
produce a feebje performance ; when he has not exerted the 
vigour of his genius upon it : a piece may be feeble from 
the want of vigour in the genius, or in the hand of its 
author; it may be fiat, insipid, uninteresting from its sub- 
ject, from the manner in which the subject is treated, or 
from the inadequate result of the whole together': of two 
pictures, though painted as companions, one is usually less 
vigorous than the other — but it may compensate the want 
of vigour by other appropriate excellencies, which may 
render it a proper associate, though possessing merit of a 
different kind. 

FESTOON is an ornament composed of fruits, flowers, 
Sec. tied together, arid supposed to be suspended at each end. 
It is probable this ornament took its rise from garlands. See. 
hung over the doors, &c. of temples on the days of solemn 
festivals in heathen worship, when such kinds of offerings 
were made to the deities. Or they might be the first fruits 
which had l)een carried to the temple in procession, and 
which were hung up as long as they kept together, and were 
afterwards commemorated by being sculptured as ornaments. 

Festoons arc not now restricted to flowers, or fruits, but 
many other articles are employed to the same purpose. 

FIELD of a pkture tignilies llic depths, the hinder 
parts of the compo-illijn, those upon which the nearer parts 
are placed, and Irom which ihey ought to appear detached. 
To produce this cffi'ct, the field of the picture ought to he 
of a nature and appearance distinct from, yet allied to, the 
nearer objects : it' tbesw be light, the field may be sober 


1^ I N 119 

and grave ; if these be solid and firm, as it were, the field 
may be light — yet always harnioniziiig in form, and espe- 
cially in colour, with the forms and the colours of the prin- 
cipals of the piece. 

FIGURE, in terms of art, signifies whatever is capable 
of representation : hence we have geometrical figures, nia> 
thematical figures, &c. 

In paintmg, ** figure" is usually restrained to import the 
human figure : but animals are also figures in landscape. 
Many landscape-painters succeed but ill in figures : and it 
would well become painters of every kind to study the human 
figure; it must improve their style, and their manner of 
viewing even the most ordinary objects. Too many figures 
in a picture embarrass the general effect, and load the com- 
position. Annilal Carachi said, *' twelve figures was the 
greatest number necessary for most subjects ;" — those which 
were useless, or redundant, or unemployed, or misemplov- 
€d, he used to call " figures to be lett." Such should be 
avoided ; but it is not every figure that seems to be useless 
which really is so in a composiiion : very often, to remove 
figures which seem to be doing nothing, would impoverish 
the ordonnance ; and they may safely be retained till that 
something better which can be substituted, is determined 
by competent judgment. 

FINISHING proposes as its pursuit, the most scrupulous 
attention to everji part of a piece; to give the utmost truth 
to its objects. \'ery great care to finish some parts of a pic- 
ture^ is apt to injure the effect of others ; it is apt, also, to 
weary the mind of the artist, and thereby injure the liberty 
of his hand : but when finishing is united with freedom, 
when it is delicate and light, it by very much exceeds (for 
cabinet pieces especially) the slight productions of haste and 
celerity . 


J23 F L E: 

FIRE Is spoken of that animated and lively expression, 
action, &c. whicii some masters have conimunicated to the 
figures introtluced in their pictures. Those bold touches which 
mark and characterize each individual thins as distinct from 
Others, those judicious selections of actions, those animat- 
ed inventions, those vigorous conceptions and compositions, 
which realize, as it were, the subject represented ; these are 
the offspring of that glow'nig imacrination, xh^i Jire which 
is a talent received from nature, an endowment of the artist's 
mind; a quality not to be expected as the result of studies 
however long continued, or sedulously pursued. 

Fire-lights are a class of pictures in which the effect 
of light is seen to great advantage. They differ something 
from candlelights, and altogether from daylight pictures. 
To be in any degree striking, thev must be studied from na- 
ture. The late Mr. Wright, of Derby, vias a wonderful 
proficient in pictures of this description. 

FLATTERY is spoken of a likeness in portraiture, 
which has improved on the original. Flattery is certainly 
a crime in morals, but unless pushed to excess, it is no 
crime in picture : for as it may not happen, that the time 
when a person sits for his portrait, is his most favourable 
time ; or, that he than is most agreeable, in his general ap- 
pearance ; it is a very pardonable liberty, if the artist en- 
deavour to represent hmi as he would appear, at such most 
£'.vourable UKiment. This liberty we allow in views of 
places, and in representations of things ; why should we 
d«.ny it in portraiture of persons ? but that this should bo 
done with dexterity and skill, with modesty and delicacy, all 
admit and all desire : when the flattery is too gross it offends 
more by its excess than it gralities by its coniplaisance. 

FLESH is always understood, in terms of art, of those 
parts of the human figure, wliieli arc seen naked in a pic- 

FOR 121 

ture.. To represent this well, is among the highest exer- 
tions of art ; as it requires good drawing, and good colour- 
ing. If the term carnation differs from the idea conveyed 
by the term Jlesh, it is, in referring to a greater quantitv, 
such as a whole fio-ure, or a number of figures, or the gene- 
ral mass of the whole : or as we say of a master, " his 
carnations (meaning his nakeds, generally) are so, or so." 

FLOWER-PAINTING is a distinct branch of art j like 

, landscape, portrait. Sec. It requires clearness of tint, a happy 

adjustment of the various flowers, as productive of harmony 

and effect, and a certain sprightliness, and gaiety, without 

which, flowers are heavy and inefficient. 

It is a too frequent error, to represent in one groupe, 
flowers which do not blow or appear at the same time : this 
mixture of summer and winter is very reprehensible. 

FLUTINGS, the hollows or channels, which are cut 
perpendicularly in columns by wav of ornament, and which 
should always both begin and end in the shaft, near the ex- 
tremity of the apophyges ; though there are examples to 
the contrary. When flutlngs arc used the capital should be 

FOLIAGE, an assemblage of leaves : used as an orna- 
ment in architecture. Foliage expresses likewise the 'leaves 
of trees, &c. in landscape ; and the manner in which the 
foliage of various trees is treated, as to truth, character, 
keeping, &c. is of great importance to the good effect of a 

FORCE is the result of a judicious application of the 
chiaro oscuro ; its leading principle is contrast. 

FORESHORTENING is the effect of perspective, and 
has been explained in the Lectures. In general, this is a 
difficult part of study, but when well executed very decep- 
tive, as it gives the idea of projection and interval, which 

DiCT. Bdit. 7. R otherwise 

T22 F R A 

otherwise Is unattainable : yet this principle too abundantly 
repeated loses Its eftect, and injures the whole of a picture. 

FORM is sometimes spoken of a figure; as when vvc 
say, character regulates the forms of figures : it is also ap- 
plied to the parts, as a hand, or a foot, of a good form. 

Form is also applied to the contours, and proportions of 
vases, ornaments, and other inanimate things : in this sense 
a. form is elegant, or beautiful, is clumsy, or disagreeable. 

Form is also applied in the sense of shape, to the figures 
of the masses, the lights, the shadows, the groupes, and, in 
general, to all the lines of a composition. 

FOXY is a term used by painters to express the preva- 
lence of a particular kind of redness, resembling that of 
the animal from which the exptession is taken : as this is by 
no means the most agreeable of reds, care should be taken 
to avoid the excess or predominance of this hue or tone in 
a picture. 

FRAME, that which sitrrounds a picture when finished. 
The uses of a frame are (i.) to .defend the picture, 8cc. from 
injury ; for which purpose frames should be, though not 
heavy, yet sufficiently firm, and strong, (ii.) To termi- 
nate the apparent sitrface of a picture, to confine the eye 
from wandering beyond the dimensions which are proposed 
to be subniiiled to its inspection, whereby the parts on 
which art has been employed, mav produce all the e'Tcct of 
which they arc capable, (m.) To heighten and improve 
the vivacity of the colours, Sec. which appear in the piece : 
for this purpose, frames arc commonly n^.ade of wood, gild- 
ed, and the gold burnished. A varictv of patterns are erii- 
ployed on fraiuc'^ : if they are tiTo showy and glaring, they 
injvire the picture bv attractim.'- the eve from it : if thev are 
noniposed of too small ornnnientr-, the e\ c may regard 
these, wlu n it should be coioidering &,■: picture; neverthe- 

PRE 123 

less, as handsome frames greatly ornamerjt an apartment, 
where ornament is desired frames may be eiribellishcd ac- 
cordingly ; they are very expensive if large : from ten to 
sixty guineas. 

The framing of prints, is now an article of great trade : 
as the dimensions of these are not so large as those of pic- 
tures, the frames should be proportionately narrower ; and 
as prints have no colours to compare with those of a picture, 
they should be modest, and sober rather than glaring. Some 
artists never choose to shew their works unless framed ; as 
the frame is a kind of dress to a picture. 

FREE is spoken of attitudes, draperies, &c. as opposed 
to constraint, and stilTucss. In general there is danger that 
parts surrounded by too much drapery, or by draperv drawn 
too tight, should want freedom : there is also great danger 
that attitudes, intended to be very expressive, very solemn, 
or very attentive, should want freedom, A just medium be- 
tween slovenliness and constraint^, is a proper estimate of 

Freedom of ha>;d, is the result of an intelligent mind, 
actuating a practised hand ; if good sense does not direct 
the hand, it will produce scrawls, not instances of freedom > 
but the best sense jn the world requires practice, to be able 
to express its intentions by its hand. Constraint at first 
may prove no enemy to freedom at last. 

FRESCO, a manner of painting on walls, Sec. while wet. 
Vide the Compendium of Colours.. 

FRESH is said of colouring, when it possesses truth 
and brilliancy : but particularly of carnations. A freshness 
of colour in the naked is that of a healthy, animated, san- 
guine, vigorous person : as opposed by livid, diseased, 
leaden, earthv, or b;ick-coloured carnations. 

Colours are sometimes praised for their freshness after 
B 2 ages 

124 FRO 

ages of duration : this is a very commendable quality, and 
proves, not only that the colours were themselves good, but 
that the masters knew how to use them. Modern masters 
are perpetually seeking after colours that will stand as well as 
they see some' ancient colours have stood : they should re- 
collect, (i.) that ancient masters superintended the preparation 
of their colours themselves : (ii.) that they disturbed them as 
little as possible in the using of them ; and, (in.) that it is 
usually the fault of the menstruum, oil, &c. when colours 
change, rather than of the pigments themselves. 

FRET is an ornament in architecture used lo embellish 
flat surfaces, chiefly : it is a kind of broad band or riband 
(or several bands), as it were, folded on itself, at right angles, 
and carried along the member it is intended to decorate. 
This kind of ornament is sometimes very complex: but a 
single fret is simple enough. 

FRIENDLY colours, are those, which, when united, 
form a pleasing mixture ; those which when placed close 
together present no harshness, no violent opposition, but 
an agreeable result : in general, those which mix kindly to- 
gether into one pleasing hue, associate in a friendly manner. 
See Sympathy. 

FRONT OF A PICTURE requires a boldness and freedom 
of touch, a distinctness, and force of treatment, in order 
to make a strong impression on the spectator: as this part 
cf a picture is always supposed to be near the spectator, 
the objvicts may be rendered as natural as possible, so that 
by a little exertion it should seem easy for him to feel as well 
as see them ; yet aiways avoiding hardness. 

FRONTISPIPXE sometimes signifies the whole face or 
aspect of a building, but is more properly applied to the de- 
corated entrance of a house. 

Frontispifxe sometinits means an introductory orna- 
ment to a book. 


OEN 125 


vTALLERY. In a capacious residence there are usually 
some rooms not peculiarly occupied by the family, but 
allotted for the reception of decorations. These, when hung 
with pictures, are called picture-galleries ; but, in truth, 
a gallery should be an apartment extended into considerable 
length, and whose windows are so disposed as to afford the 
most favourable light for the pictures which are hung in the 
gallery, for the statues, busts, vases, &c. which stand in 
it, and for whatever other decorations of art it contains. 
Probably the origin of galleries was the length of those 
apartments connected with colonnades, and which formed 
communications of intercourse between the parts of exten- 
sive mansions ; these being adorned with works of art, 
other receptacles for works of art received their appellation 
from them ; and hence a gallery is understood to contain 
such works, and indeed to be composed of them ; for so, 
when we regret the removal of the Houghton gallery from 
England to Russia, we mean the pictures, though the 
apartment which contained them remains. 

GENIUS. The principles of natural genius have been 
pretty much considered in the Lectures, to which we refer 
the reader. 

Genius, a, expresses one of those little winged boys (in 
religious subjects often called cheruhs) which painters place 
flying about on some occasions. They may sometimes 
illustrate a subject, by contributing to tell some episodical 
part of the story ; but as they are accessories only, very 
rarely indeed should they occupy a principal place : their 
business is ornament, and their u-e is to expres? uhat can- 

5 "t>f 

120 GOT 

not be so well suggested any other way, bv which they are 
restricted for the most part to ancient subjects. Naked 
geyiii flying about in clouds, in composition with modern 
personages, habits, and facts, are seldom tolerable : yet 
there are exceptions ; witness Pope's Rape of the Lock, and 
its very amusing and expressive aerial machinery, which is 
no le?s picturesque than poetical. 

GLAZING. Vide what has been said in the Comi'EN- 
DIUM OF Colours on this subject. 

GLORY. \''ide Aureolus, or Nimsus. 

GLUK is a tenacious matter, emploved to unite two or 
more pieces of wood or other things; it is also, in some of 
its preparations, used as a kind of menstruum to liquefy 
and assist the application of colours and other things. The 
strongest glue is made in Enoland, from the cartilages, 
nerves, feet. Sec. of oxen, first macerated in water, then 
entirely dissolved by heat. There are various kinds of glue, 
as that used bv carpenters, as above ; that made of parch- 
a'!Tent-shrcds, See. The fan-manufacturers make a very 
neat glue. A kind of stick made of glue is composed for the 
purpose of joining paper together, in order to enlarge draw- 
ings, Sec. or to repair those which have been damaged, Sec. 
It may be carried in the pocket, and is used by being mois- 
tened with warm water, or even by a little saliva, for im- 
mediate application. 

GOTillC may be generalK' understood in much the 
same ocnse as bakhahous; though in fact it the taste 
of certain northern nations, whose ravages and desolations 
of the line arts in Itaiv, 8:.c, are well- known. As most of 
our old churches, &e. are Gotiiic in their architecture, 
there is no need to particularize this manner; which, how- 
ever inferior to the elegance of the antique, has nevertheless, 
in its beat example?, great richness and sultninity. Sonic 


G R A 127 

c'^erive this style from the Saracens or Moors, rather than 
from those nations properly called Goths. 

There are various kinds of Gothic. The early examples 
of this style in England are called Saxon, and are charac- 
terized by circular arches springing from massy columns. 
A subsequent style adopted the pointed arch, and high 
rising proportions, turrets, &c. ; the windows of such edi- 
fices were beautifully ornamented with foliage, and the roofs 
at length partook of equal decoration. The former arc 
called Norman Gothic ; the latter are described as either 
enriched) or Engli::li Golhic. 

GRACE is a certain characteristic quality, which render? 
objects agreeable and delightful to the spectator. 

A figure may be well drawn, yet not be graceful ; or 
well coloured, yet possess no grace; may even be beaulitui, 
yet not graceful. Whence then is grace ? 

This subject might be treated negatively and positively. 
The first is so clear to genera! understanding, that little dif- 
ference of opinion is maintained on it. Whatever is not 
accurate, or in character, or well placed, or interesting, is 
not graceful : whatever shocks the feelings of a spectator, 
or is repugnant to huinanitv, or to civility and politeness, 
to decorum of maimers, and elegance of sentiment, is not 

Is the converse of this grace ? Grace is characteristic : 
there is grace peculiar to youth, to maturity, to age. Grace. 
is a happy treatment of beautv inspiring elegant ideas : hi 
source must be sought for in the mind. 

As to the influence of rules in producing grace, it seems 
inapplicable : rules are always more or less mathematical. 
Now, who conceives of n)athematical grace ? Rather, the 
povA'er of designing a graceful figure i? a quality of; a 
happy imagination, which, by conceiving forms and their 
relation?, lines and their direction'-, images to itself grace 


4iS G R A 

and elegance. If to conception thus graceful, be added judg- 
ment to select ideas, and to enihody them by appropriate de- 
lineation, and application, the result is — dtlio-ht. 

Graceful movement is usually transitory and fugitive; it 
requires attention and observation to perceive and to profit by 
it. To the assistance of such observation, a hint or two 
may contribute. 

The first thing we notice when a person presents himself 
in company, is the air of his head : it is more or less 
bending, forwards or sideways ; it is free, or stiff and con- 
strained. This part especially requires notice, because the 
airs of the heads are the first things which strike in a pic- 
ture. The attitudes of the arms are of great consequence, 
whether like or unlike, parallel or varied j the relation of 
the line or lines they make to that of the head and neck ; to 
that of the body; also the forms of the hands, their mo- 
tions, the relations of the lines of their motions to that, or 
those of the arms, the situations of the fingers, 8cc. In 
the body, the line of its motion, its attitudes, its ease, and 
free deportment; the absence of constraint and embarrass- 
ment; the absence also of affectation; the polite, kind, 
and engaging manner of performing certain actions, &c. 
when a person not only does readily what he does, but 
gracefully also. In a word, grace is a happy selection of 
nature, seen in her best moments ; which, when repeated, 
excites love rather than admiration, and pleasure mingled 
with approbation rather thaii surprise : it pervades the 
whole figure from licad to (oo\, by variety, yet union, bv 
harmony and intimate relalicni, though diversified bv innu- 
merable distinctions and changes of pcrs(>nage?aud character. 
GRANDEUR is dignity united to grace ; it is a noble- 
ness and supcriorilv, connected with case and politeness. 
That this quality, as well e.s grace, should vary with dif- 
ferent persons is net wonderlu! ; and while ihe saisaiions of 


J'JjJh't o/^Zuyht lUid S/iadinf Dictionary of 

in a Groi/p o/' ob/ectf 

//? a single objed . 

Objects D^peKfCff; t/iae/hre tvit/iout Etfcd. 

G R-I 129 

fnanklnd are (al originej distinct, and arise from unequal 
and variable motions of the mind, there will always be 
diversity of opinions both on grace and grandeur. In fact, 
this diversity of opinions, and sentiments, and ideas, is 
among the insuperable impediments to a definition of grace : 
at the same time that it is a happy circumstance for artists, 
\vhose works are therefore likely, if rejected by some, to be 
admired by others. 

Grandeur of manner is intimately connected with a 
rejection of the minute and trifling parts of a subject, 
bringing forward the more important and noble parts, and 
placing them to the best advantage, without any com- 
petitors whereby to divert the eye from their complete 

GRAPES, BUNCH OF, Is the model which nature offers 
to artists for their conduct in composition, especially of the 
chiaro oscuro ; wherein the parts are so disposed, that they 
form a whole, in which many contiguous parts may be 
enlightened, many in shade, and others varying in medium 
tints : as in the bunch of grapes, those in the centre are 
conspicuous, others recede, as well in effect as in situation, 
going off gradually, without any offensive suddenness, while 
the infinitely varying reflections preserve a harmony, and 
augment the spectacle wi-thout permitting glare. Vide the 

GRINDING is an operation very necessary to tlie beauty 
of a picture, because the beauty of colours much depends 
on it : unless they be finely ground they are roueh, gra- 
velly, and coarse; aud have ahvays a bad eire,ct, especially 
m works to be viewed near: nevertheless, colours may be 
injured by over-grinding, especially white. Colours well 
ground mix better witl> others also well ground, and pro- 
duce a smoother and pleasanter surface than coarsely-ground 
pigments. Careful grinding is thought to have contributed 

DiCT. Edit. y. s greatly 

130 6 R 6 

greatly to the preservation of the colours in the pictures of 
old masters, some of which have stood wonderfully well 
century after century. 

GROTESQUE is a kind of style in painting and sculp- 
ture, which takes unbounded liberties with the humati 
figure, or other objects; beginning, for instance, with a 
;herub's head and body, and ending in a wreath of orna- 
ment j or to a lion's fore part uniting capricious and 
whimsical decorations, variously coloured, &c. 

They are called grotesques, because imitated from the 
subterranean ruins of the baths of Titus (called grottaj. 
Giovanni da Udine was the restorer of this libertine 
manner, as Vitkuvius has justly reproached it with being ; 
it however maintains a place, because convenient for orna- 

GROUND signifies much the same aijield of a picture, 
i. e. the part behind a forwarder object. In this sense we 
say such a thing \z the ground to another, as sky to trees or 
buildings, buildings to figures, or a figure behind another 
to the figure before it. The hack ground, as it is often 
called, is of great consequence to the subject represented ; 
to a portrait it should harmonize well with the figure, in 
tone and in colours, being always kept down. In general 
the back ground of a picture should be light, cheerful, 
modest, sober, and friendly to the principal forms and 
colours of the piece : the importance of the back ground is 
felt most by those who best understand the management of 
the principal. 

GROUPE is, bolii In painting and scidpture, an assem- 
blage of several figures : the term is extended to assemblages 
of all kinds of objects, animals, fruit. Sec. The figures in 
a groupe ought to have a relation to each other, a corre- 
spondence 'and" liiutuality ; they ought to contribute to ihc 
same action, arid' to raise the same, or at least a similar 
-^ sensation. 

H A R 131 

sensation. Groupes are thus considered with respect to 
composition. Also in clair obscure, they are objects where- 
Q|i the light falls, so as 10 raise attention, and from which 
shadows originate, so as to support the lights, whereby the 
eye regards the groupe as a simple object. Any number of 
figures may enter into a groupe; but it is evident that if 
they are too numerous, the simplicity of the groupe is de- 
stroyed. When a composition requires several groupes, 
they should be arranged on the principle of a groupe itself; 
that is to say^ that the parts, though related, should yet 
be distinct, and the principal suffer no abatement: thus a 
large composition is a groupe of groupes, always offering a 
first or chief, and such supports as are requisite ; generally 
a second and a third ; more groupes would embarrass atten- 
tion, less would be heavy and confused, as well as prevent 
the necessary vacancies which divide without distancing 
them. In a history containing twelve figures (which are 
usually sufficient for any story), three groupes will permit 
each figure to be distinct, without injuring the importance 
of the principal. 

GYPSUM is a natural production which forms plas- 
ter of Paris after being calcined : it is used for casts of 
figures, &c. 


XlARD is a term used to express a too sudden terminatioi:i 
of outlines, &c. ; a dry, awkward, ungraceful contour; 
when the lights, instead of gradually approaching the sha- 
dov.s, rashly, as it were, join them, and produce by their 
too sudden transition, a cutting of the parts, instead of a 
tenderness, which is infinitely more pleasing. 

HARMONY is the result of a judicious, proportionate, 
varied, yet connected management of chiaro oscuro, colour- 
ing drawing. Sec. 

s 2 The 

132 H O L 

The term is generally adopted in reference to colouring: 
Its principles are, (i.) Union, the absence of inimical and 
lieterogeneous colours and tints, (ii.) Variety, whereby 
every colour is heightened, and rendered more piquant, yet 
with delicacy and skill. 

Some persons have supposed that a harmony of colours 
might be formed on the principles of musical harmony; but 
the idea seems impracticable. 

HARSHNESS is used in a sense not very different from 

HEAVY is spoken of figures, draperies, forms, &c. 
which are not elegant, tasteful, easy, and agreeable to the 
eye : it is the contrary to lightness, grace, and beauty. 

HEIGHTENED is spoken of subjects which being 
painted in two or more sober colours, or in chiaro oscuro 
only, are afterwards touched in places where their bright 
lights strike, with lighter colours; or with glldivgy some- 
fimes ; as the historical pictures in the dome of St, Paul's 
at London. 

HISTORY Painting selects, from events real or sup. 
posed, the actions which it designs to represent; and gene- 
rally, it should be some elevated subject, capable of grandeur 
and dignity, and affording scope for the exertions of art. 

This branch of painting claims, and is allowed, the first 
rank in the art; it is the most difficult, as well as most 
noble ; requiring in the artist an elevated mind, a fertile 
imagination, an heroic genius, and s;encrous sentiments; to- 
gether with C'irrect design, taste, fidelity, expression, and 
learning. Yet these are imperfect, without grace and 

HOLES arc those patches of dark or blackish colours, 
which are placed mal-a-propos on the front of a picture; 
generally with intention to procure force, but which, when 
viewed at a ju3t distance, by hiding the objects they con- 

I C O r33 

ialn, seem rather so many impervious pits, than masses of 
regulated and tender shade. 

HONEYSUCKLE, an ornament adopted in architecture, 
representing the flowers of this plant in their early state. 

HORIZON is the apparent boundary of the earth where 
it seems to touch the sky. To all purposes of art this is the 
actual horizon : but astronomers extend the horizon into the 
region of the stars itself! In perspective it is always the 
height of the eye : subjects above the horizon shew their 
lower surfaces : subjects below the horizon shew their upper 
surfaces to a spectator. 

XCHNOGRAPHY is properly a representation of the hori- 
zontal plan of any subject, as of a house, level with the 
groundj but, in perspective by planes, has been taken with 
some liberty, for the representation of any plan, vertical, or 

ICONOLOGY, or the science of Emblems, often ex- 
presses, by direct means, what narration or poetry fails of, 
when most prolix; and has the advantage over writing, of 
being more generally, understood. Its antiquity is un- 
questionable ; whether we recur to the sacred ivrit'ings, or 
trace it in the hieroghjphics of Egypt, certain it is, that 
emblematical representations were cultivated, and even com- 
municated as a science, in ages of refnotest antiquity. 

In later ages, signs of a very general and extensive nature 
have been chosen to convey the ideas of the iconologisl : 
these are taken from ordinary occurrences of nature, or from 
various properties of natural productions, which, being open 
to general observation, are presumed to be generally in- 



4 To 

134 ICO 

To most species of creatures, nature has given a certain cha- 
racter, distinct from that of all others; to the lion, courage 5 
to the eagle, quickness of sight, as well as celerity ; to the ele- 
phant, sagacity ; to the fox, cunning : not that we credit every 
tale related of those animals, yet presume enough to be truth 
to justify their representations as symbolical of the same 
qualifies or propensities in the human mind. 

Not only subjects of the animal, but also of the vegetable 
kingdom, are used as expressive insignia, m this science; 
trees remarkable for their strength, or shrubs observable for 
their fragrance, are emblems extremely easy to the mind; 
and, when well adapted, equally pleasing. Who is there 
but imagines something mournful in the cypress, or 
plaintive in the weeping willow ? Who is not sensible of 
the beauty of the rose, or feels not the majesty of the cedar ? 
The machines, implements .and utensils, employed by 
mankind, become significant emblems : the plough is a just 
symbol of agriculture, as the sword is of war. To an em- 
blem of music, we use such musical instruments as are. 
known among us ; as to a figure of painting, we insert the 
pallette and pencils. 

Particular countries, cities, Soc. have generally somewhat 
peculiar to themselves, either the growth of the country, ox 
manufacture of the city ; or, perhaps, a particular custom, 
privilege, or character, distinguishes them from others, and 
this, when judiciously employed, forms a becoming allu- 
sion to the subject intended. 

Iconology exacts three principal qualities j ^?,y^, that it 
be iNTKLLiGinLE, that the symbols introduced arc such as 
speak at once to the eve and to the understanding, and whose 
rclaljou and application to the subject to be expressed, is 
obvious and clear. It is highlv offensive to keep the atten- 
tion long in suspense, ere it can dccyphcr ncvvly-inventcd or 


IMA 135 

roundabout related tokens, mysterious as free-masons' signs. 
This obscurity is contrary to the use of introducing symbols, 
which is explanation and information. 

The second quality necessary in emblems, is, that they 
should be AUTHORIZED by customary usage. This autho- 
rity is usually attributed to the antique ; for my own part, 
however, I cannot but regret the influence which is allowed 
to antiquity on this subject. It seems to me, that, with re- 
gard to religious emblems or ideas, we are happily placed 
under a dispensation so different, that most of their senti- 
ments are either contradicted or superseded : and the same 
may be said of many philosophical truths; our informa- 
tion whereon is infinitely superior to their imaginations. But 
in what symbols are arbitrary, as those of antiquity are gene- 
rally received, they are nmchmore intelligible than others now 
composed might be, so that their use seems indispensable. 

The third quality of emblematical figures, is, that they be 
necessary: if the business can be accomplished without 
them, they must be omitted j for, if introduced without war- 
rantable occasion, like misapplied epithets in writing, they 
embarrass more than they enforce. 

The treatment proper to emblematical introductions, is 
that of accessories, not of principals. 

IMAGINATION is that quality of the mind whereby we 
think, conceive, invent, and combine ideas. One of the 
most necessary qualities for an artist, is a lively, gracefuT 

To assist the imagination, it has been suggested, that re- 
course may be had tt) the various effects of accidental causes, 
which shew themselves in objects around us; such as bat- 
tered walls, veins of marble, &c. : but hov/ever these mav aid 
imagination in an eccentric and irregular manner, they are 
by no means capable of imparting grace and elegance. 

^ " IMI- 

136 INK 

IMITATION is not so much copying the works of ano- 
ther master, as endeavouring by recollection, and by hand- 
ling, to repeat his manner of thinking and working. Paint- 
ing sometimes imitates the antique, though from statues, in 
the turn of figures, the forms, orders, and directions of folds 
of draipery, &c. It should seem, at first sight, that we can- 
not imitate nature too closely, but this must be restricted 
to a good choice and beautiful nature : for whatever is defec- 
tive, lame, superfluous, offensive, ought not to be imitated^ 
though it be nature no less than what is lovely, or select, 
and well-chosen j but of such subjects the more perfect the 
imitation is, the better. 

IMITATOR is the character of those artists who so 
closely follow the manners of other masters, as not infre- 
quently to deceive the best-informed judges. David Te- 
KiERS was so good an imitator, as to procure himself the 
appellation of the ape of painting. 

IMPOST, a facia or small cornice which crowns a pier 
or pilaster, and from which an arch springs. 

IMPRESSIONS are prints taken off copper-plates at the 
rolling press ; and are either good or bad, according to the 
truth witliwhich they represent the work on the plate: if 
they are too faint, or too full, they are equally bad : the first 
being deficient in force, the latter in clearness; which two 
qualities ought to unite in a perfect impression. 

INK is a general term for a liquor used to write with, to 
draw with, to print with, Sec. The best ink to draw with is 
Indian ink, which is an artificial composition, originally 
made in China. A substitute is made by smoke received on 
a plate, and combined with diluted glue. 

Ink used in copper-*plate printing, is composed of Frank- 
fort black, and linseed-oil burnt (weaker or stronger as 
wanted), well ground together into on body. 

A plate 

J I 137 

A plate Is inked in when the whole work upon it is filled 
up with ink, forced into it by means of a rubber made of 
woollen rolled together, and rubbed over the whole face of 
the plate. 

INTERESTING relates either to the nature of a subject, 
or the manner of treating it. A subject may be interesting 
by its pathos, or its relation to the spectator, or its general 
importance : an interesting manner of relating such a subject, 
is the result of feeling and sentiment, taste and judgment. 

INVENTION is a part of composition, which selects thp 
objects, &c. requisite to the subject treated. 

When an artist has determined on his subject, he ought 
well to imprint it on his mind ; to interest himself in the 
action; to transport himself in idea to the very event; 
to examine every ahicle connected with it, or related to it; 
every circumstance or accessory which may be useful or be- 
coming ; and these he must apply to the best advantage, 
omitting redundancies, and confining himself to propriety, 
in his thoughts, expressions, and incidents. 

To assist invention, are necessary, constant study, general 
conversation among mankind, a readiness of remark on oc- 
current effects, a retentive memory, a habit of rapid sketch- 
ing, an acquaintance with the works of the best masters, the 
best histories, the best poets, and whatever is a happy effort 
of inventive genius. 

JOINTS of the various members, or bones, in the body, 
to be well represented, require great attention. They differ 
in appearance according to the difference of ages in ihe sub- 
jects represented : they are not capable of receiving much 
accession of fat, and never are loaded with it ; so that the 
skin which covers them, being always nearer to the bones 
beneath it, than in other parts, shews their situations and 
effects. Children, and women of a certain plumpness, not 

DiCT. Edit, 7. T having 

138 K N 

having the same Strength in their muscles as men have, 
shew the difference greatly at the joints ; for in many parts 
where the bones shew themselves by rising under the skin, 
in a man, as at the shoulders, elbows, wrists, knuckles, &c. 
in children and women these parts are dimpled or sunk in. 
As this effect is strongly characteristic, art should imitate 
and pronounce it accordingly ; not with a slavish attention, 
yet with a faithful, a dexterous, and a liberal hand. 


JvNOWLEDGE is to be acquired only by reflection on 
good works, and a regular attention to the effects of nature, 
with the methods of imitation which have been practised by 
the ingenious and excellent. This latter knowledge is espe- 
cially requisite to determine the genuine productions of any 
particular master. 

Knowledge is the art of distinguishing and judging of 
the beauty and the merit of a performance of art, and of the 
manner of the principal artists, so far, at least, as to deter- 
mine, whether a picture, &c. be an original or a copy ; and 
whether it be of the master to whom it is attributed. The 
best judges are by no means infallible on the latter article, 
and arc often deceived by taking the works of the scholar for 
those of his master, whose style he has imitated closely : for 
by having repeatedly, and for a long time, copied his master, 
he insensibly acquires bis manner, both of thinkmg and of 
operating. Though it is undoubtedly agreeable to be able to 
attribute a v.ork to its real author, yet it is much more ne- 
cessary to be able to determine whether a performance, of 
whatever nature, be meritorious or insipid, whether it deserve 


K N O 139 

praise or censure : and this degree of knowledge may be ac- 
quired when the former cannot. 

The knowledge of nature is the first ingredient toward a 
just estimation of the merit of art : the eye which is well in- 
structed will unquestionably be agreeably affected at the 
sight of an elegant statue, picture, or design: and if such an 
eye be not attracted, it is a probable nroof that the per- 
formance does not combine, in any high degree, the requi- 
site qualities of excellence. A man of knowledge should 
have no prejudices in favour of the dead or of the living, 
of old masters, or of living professors : merit is all he 
should concern himself to observe and to applaud : he 
mav, indeed, have his favourite taste, but in general he should 
esteem art, and art should be the subject of his impartial 

What we have said supposes the knowledge of the prin- 
ciples, at least, of invention, composition, design, expres- 
sion, colouring, handling, costume, grace, and grandeur. 
Invention pleases and instructs, composition places to the 
greatest advantage the efforts of design, and expression ; co- 
louring, and handhng, please only; but the just observation 
of the costume is instructive also; grace and grandeur com- 
plete the assemblage of excellent qualities, and are not con- 
fined to works of one kind, usually esteemed the superior 
walk of art, but are communicated by the magic of some 
masters' skill to what, on the first mention, is hardly sup- 
posed capable of such merit and Interest. The best of mas- 
ters have, from time to time, produced performances un- 
worthy of their reputation ; to be governed by a name, is 
therefore no proof of knowledge : on the other hand, indif- 
ferent masters have sometimes exceeded themselves, and 
these fortunate productions ought to be honoured in propor- 

T 2 tion 

I40 L A R 

tion as ihey are excellent, not in proportion to the fame of 
their authors. Vide Original. 

After all, as artists are not always successful, neither are 
critics always just. It is probable that artists more frequently 
copy what they see in nature, than critics who have not had 
the same opportunity of study incline to suppose: insomuch 
that while it must be recommended to artists not to reject 
advice, because that would be to forbid improvement, it 
must also be desired of those who take upon them to judge, 
not to decide hastily, nor by their own favourite lines of 
study, nor by insinuations from prejudiced minds, but by the 
genuine principles of art, and by the proprieties of under- 
standing: and knowledfre. 

KEEPING has been already explained in the Lectures. 

J^AME. A figure is said to be lame, when its parts are not 
correctly drawn : — one leg, perhaps, is longer than the other, 
or one hand does not match its fellow, or a finger is so 
placed as just anatomy forbids. Nevertheless, the precision 
of proportion is not always to be so strictly maintained as 
to produce constraint ; the finest figures of the antique are 
not precise in their measures, but they appeared to be perfect 
in the station from whence they were intended to be viewed. 

LANDSCAPE. Vide the Lectubes. 

LARGE describes those broad masses of light and sha- 
dow, of pencilling and handling, which, instead of being 
frittered by divisions and subdivisions into so many nothings, 
void of power and effect, are composed on the principle of 


LAY 141 

producing their just impression on the spectator by attracting 
his notice, which cannot be accomplished by narrow, or 
scanty, or ill-supported distribution of light and shadow , 
of colours, and oppositions. ■ 

LAYMAN is a figure generally of wood (especially when 
large), but often of cork, ozier twigs, or even of cane, card, 
and other light substances ; the parts are proportioned to 
those of the human body, and the joints are capable of mo- 
tion ; sometimes being made of brass, on the principle of ball 
and socket (these are very much the best), but in cheaper 
constructions the joints are made of balls, cut crosswise to 
the centre, and a catgut string passed through the orifice 
thus procured. 

The use of the layman is, to serve as a model, whereon to 
dispose draperies ; especially in such attitudes as, being diffi- 
cult to maintain, would tire a living model j they hint also 
at the effects of foreshortening in ceiling figures and others. 
Lay figures of animals, also, are useful, by taking such atti- 
tudes as the animals themselves would not assume at 

As the too frequent use of the layman is very injurious, 
we shall offer a few hints which may regulate its intro- 

Artists acknowledge that correct design is only to be at- 
tained by study of living nature, and therefore, notwithstand- 
ing the natural mobility of the life, and the instability also of 
the light, they yet attentively study nature. Wherefore 
then should they not surmount the same difficulties in treat- 
ing drapery? and why should they copy from a lifeless block, 
in hope, perhaps, of imitating somewhat more nicely the 
exactitude of folds, or the minutia of the demi-tints ; and 
this at the expense of the ardour and vigour of instanta- 
neous effects ? Nor is this all j for by having^ constantly 


St'^/^ Lie 

before their eves the imperfct and clumsy proportions of a 
layman, they will be liable to slide into an awkwardness of 
design and representation, which cannot but be injurious tp 
their works. Add to this, it often happens, that the dra- 
pery they studied is much more highly finished than the 
naked, or principal part.<, whereby the unity of the imitation 
is lost, and the care and pains of the artist worse than lost. 
If these evils be avoided in the use of the layman, and 
if it be treated with freedom and liberty, its services are 
great: the means of attaining such freedom are, to study 
this article (drapery) in nature at large, and to endeavour at 
a facility in giving to each species of stuff that touch which 
it requires, with lightness and dexterity ; whereby will be 
avoided the too close imitation of those innumerable little 
lights, reflections, and trifling demi-tiats and shades, which 
bewilder the artist who too closely copies a motionless lay- 

LEAFING is of great consequence in paintmg landscape. 
Each master has his manner of leafing. The general rule 
is, to lay in the leafing parts by masses of shade, and to 
relieve them by masses of lights inserted upon them, and 
carefully graduated ; these are further strengthened by such 
smart touches, as well of dark as of light, as are requisite. 
These touches should always follow the course of the leaves, 
but without degenerating into detail and dryness, as if the 
artist had counted his leaves. 

LICENCES are certain liberties granted to artists in the 
conduct of subjects, whereby they are freed from that slavish 
attention to absolute identity of representation, of which the 
article treated is capable. If, for instance, an artist is spec- 
tator of a scene which he wishes to compose, it does not fol- 
low, that he shall not deviate from the lights which fell on 
the figures, or, that be shall place every person exactly in 


L I G 143 

the attitude he really was in ; or every groupe exactly on that 
spot which it occupied ; when by a little variation the whole 
may be greatly amended in regard to picturesque effect, and 
artist- like treatment. On the other hand, it would be in- 
sufferable in an artist, who, treating the story of Diogenes 
and Alexander, should make the shadoiv of Diogenes 
fall on the monarch : or, if a general had contrived that his 
enemies should attack him with the sun shining in their 
faces, if an artist represents either his enemies in shade, or 
no sun at all, this would be almost criminal in treating such 
a story. 

LIGHT AND Shadow. Vide Chiaro Oscuro. 

LIGHT to study by. It may be of use to hint to our 
young friends, that not every light is equally proper for 
study. Abroad, for instance, in an open country, care 
^ should be taken not to study with the full glare of strong 
sunshine striking on the book, or paper, which receives the 
study. The most agreeable time of the day in which to 
study objects, is directly after the sun is set, while the 
heaven is filled with the light he has communicated: and, 
indeed, the true colours of objects are not perceived while the 
sun shines on them, the solar rays, by adding their own co- 
lour, debase that of the object : as blue, in sunshine, is not 
truly blue, but blue surfaced with yellow ; and the same of 
other colours ; even black may in some aspects appear 
white, by reason of improper light reflected from it. 

The same principles hold good. respecting studies by can- 
dle-light : glare is extremely prejudicial to the eye. Beside 
this, the angle at which the light falls on a subject studied, 
as suppose, a plaster figure, should be neither too high nor 
too low ; for though it is well to know the effect of light at 
all heights, yet the general and most pleasing angle is about 
45 degrees, at which the shadows fall most agreeably to or- 

144 LOG 

dinary observatiori. If any person wishes to know how 
greatly the effect of light alters a countenance, let him place 
a candle above, or below, on one side, or on the other, of 
an intimate friend, and it will soon appear that he would 
scarcely know his friend to be the same person, so greatly 
is his appearance changed, in different lights. 

LIGHT in which to place a picture, should always be the 
same as that supposed in the piece, otherwise it is a false 
light, and detrimental to the effect of the picture; it is still 
worse when the light glistens against the surface of the 
canvas. Vide False Light. 

LIGHT HAND is equivalent to freedom, liberty, 8cc. of 
management and conduct of the necessary utensils 5 whe-s 
ther the chisel, pencil, graver, &c. 

LIBERTY of hand, is used in a sense not very different, 

LOCAL Colour is that proper and natural to an ob- 
ject, and to every part of an object, that which distinguishes 
it from others, and which it always preserves. Local 
colours are good, in proportion to their veracity. 

Local colour is, in its strictness, that tint proper to, 
and chosen by the artist for the place which it occupies : 
it should be, according to the laws of gradation and keep- 
ing, that which, by the help of the colours around it, ex- 
presses the true appearance of what it is intended to repre- 
sent : for instance, a silk, a stuff, flesh, or other object. It is 
called lucaJ, because the place which it occupies, requires it 
to be of its present tone, though, perhaps, were it removed 
from th's place to another, and surrounded by different 
colours those wiiich now surround it, or were it seen 
uuder another light or aspect, truth itself would require 
it to b • very difiercnt: because, by reason of its new neigh- 
bours, 8:ci it wo'jld lose that propriety which now be- 
comes it. Kencc it follows, that local colours are not al- 
4 ways 

MAD 145 

ways exactly those even of nature itself; but those which are 
best suited to make their subject resemble the general appear* 
ancc of nature to the eye which inspects the piece. 

LOW is spoken of the subject of a picture, when it is 
drawn from vulgar incidents, and represents vulirar man- 
ners: such are many Dutch pictures; they represent occur- 
rences which ought in nature to be private, and therefore 
ought not in picture to be public, 

Low is also spoken of the manner of treating a superior 
subject, when the artist shews no elevation of mind, no 
grace, or grandeur of idea; the noblest subject possible 
may be ruined by being treated in a low and unworthy style, 

LOZENGE STROKES in engraving, are strokes crossing 
each oth^r with more or less obliquity ; tow lozenge is bud. 


JVIaDONNA is the holy virgin mother of our Lord j the 
term is Italian, and signifies " Our Lady ;*' it is usually 
restricted to a single head of the Virgin. Madonna ^ Bam- 
Hno is the holy mother mid her infant, more or less grown 
in statL\re, as the painter has pleased. As the religion of 
Italy occasions a kind of trade in th?se subjects, they 
have bee^ treated by all manner of artists in, all man- 
ner of ways j hence their quantity ii ysu^iUy more consi- 
derable than their quality. It has aiso been customairy for 
pictures of this Hiftd to b^ distiuguishe<i by sume a.ccessory 
inserted in the composition j hence one shall be na.uied. 
Madonna of " ih^ cushion," atwthcr Madonnoi of 
" flowers," another of ^* the fish,*' &c. &c^ The Virgis^ at 
the Cross is usually called Mater, rather than, Madonnni-^ 
as Mater Dolorosa, *' the S04TOVvf«,il i^iwher,*'' &c. &^c^ 
DicT. Edit. 7. u MAL^STICK^ 

146 MAN 

MAL-STICK Is a light rod of wood, of three or f(Sur 
feet in length, having at one end a small bag of cotton, or 
other soft substance tied to it. Painters use it by holding 
it in their left hand, and leaning the soft bag against some 
dry part of the picture on which they are working ; it 
serves to rest the right hand on, and to keep it steady wlrlle 

MANNER is that method of working, that touch, that 
taste, that habitude, as well as that train of thought, in- 
vention, and management, which is proper to every parti- 
cular master; which characterizes his productions, and dis- 
tinguishes his works : as sometimes a manner distinguishes 
a whole school. 

Manner, in painting, may be considered as equivalent 
to manner or style in writing : thus the manner of Cicero 
or of Demosthenes is as proper, as the manner of Kapha- 
ELLE or of Titian. 

To form a manner, and to be a mannerist, are two dis- 
tinct articles. Although an artist proposes to himself to 
imitate nature, and nature has no manner, yet by that pecu- 
liarity of seeing nature, which is proper to hiniself, he will 
actually acquire a corresponding method of imitating those 
effects, which he is perpetually inspecting : whereas a man- 
nerist not only quits nature and truth, but also repeats 
himself, not nature, in his productions : as if all his ob- 
jects were cast in the same mould, and never varied in 
their appropriate characters or colours. 

In the course of an artist's works, it is usual to distin- 
guish three manners: first, that acquired while under 
tuition; which ordinarily remains a long time, as being 
powerful impressions, received in youth, and strengthened by 
that respect with which young persons survey the produc- 
_ tions of their masters. If the manner of the master is 

5 E'*^^> 

MAR J47 

good. It is infinitely happy for the pupil j if bad, he has 
two difficult things to perform, first to relinquish a bad 
manner, secondly to acquire a good one : in reference to 
this difficulty, the Italians occasionally say, " Young man, 
if you knew nothing, you would soon know something." 

The second manner of a master is, that which he forms 
to himself as the result of mature reileetion, study, and 
judgment, wherein his abilities having attained a ripeness, 
and sufficiency, he is able to depend on his own talents ; 
and this is usually the best time of an artist ; he produces 
his happiest works, and giving full scope to his genius, 
shews of what it is capable. 

As life declines, the manner of an anist declines vi'ith it, 
and he slides into a third manner, less vigorous, less bold, 
less decided, than his best. His works now are rather the 
result ot former habit, than of present energy; rather the 
remaining vibrations of a string, than harmonious tone ; 
and this more or less, according to the temperament or 
situation of an artist, and the nature of his works. 

It is not more difficult to a well-informed judge to distin- 
guish the manner of a master, than to know the hand- 
writing of any one ; aiid if two men do not form exactly 
alike their A's and B's, no wonder they differ in represent- 
ing a hand, a head, or a figure. This is to be understood 
of natural and regular manners ; not of imitations and 
intentional forgeries. 

Manner, as spoken of the Antique, Gothic, Chines, 
&c. is easily understood, as relating to the mode of work- 
manship peculiar to such instances. 

Manner is said to be strong, weak, dry, heavy, &c. 

Mannerist is explained above. 

MARBLE is a hard stone capable of receiving a beautiful 
polish. The kinds of marble are many. That preferred 

u 2 for 

148 MliA 

for sculpture of figures is white, clear, and void of stfeaks. 
Bui many of the most beautiful kinds, finely figured and 
variegated, are employed to decorate apartinents, in 
columns, chimney-picrjcs, &c« Several kinds of marble 
used by the ancients, were drawn from quarries not known 
to us ; accordingly these are distinguished by the name of 
antique added to them, as rerd antique, i< e* green antique 
marble, yellow antique, &c. Some kinds of marble arc 
imitated by composition, as scagl'iola^ &r, 

MARINE Pictures, otherwise sea pieces, or sea ports ; 
scenes on the coast, vcsseii-', &c. 

MASQUE, the reprcsemation of a face only, separate fron» 
the head, neck, &c. : it is used frequently in sculpture, fof 
key stones, &c. over doors and arches j when it represenis 
an animal, it is termed a Muffle. 

MASSES are those larger divisions of a compositioH, 
whereon depends the effect of the whole ; xhsy are aggre- 
gates, or collections of parts, arfcl ought to be varied in 
colours, forms, effects, &c# as well of lights, as of shadows. 

MASTER is spoken of an artist whose genius and 
study have overcome the difficulties of his art ; and espe- 
cially of those artists who have been most famous : it is un- 
derstood also' of otie who has taught scholars, or disciples. 
The choice of a master is of great 'importance to a young 
prattitioiyer, as he always retahis something of ih^ manner 
which he acquires while under the original director of his 

-MAUSOLETJM, a famous sv^prdcbre erected for a king 
named JShmsolu^, by his wife Artc7m';ia\ it was extremely 
jKympous and splendid j whence pompous and splendid 
sepulchres in general have received \\it nametrf Mausotenms. 

MEALY is spoken of colours which appear faded, 
whitemdy grey in their ph-ades, and while iit their Fights j 


Mel 14c, 

as if thcy.Jxad been sprinkled with meal, Tliis is a dis- 
paragement by nil means to he avoided. 

MEDALS are a cotisidcrable source of information from 
whenee an artist mdy draw much useful knowledge. They 
tisually contain some emblem of the place where thev were 
struckj the deity, temple, or Stc. } with a portrait of the 
reignihg prince, or Sic. ; so that they represent the dresses 
of their times, also the customs, temples, vases, and 
implements of many various kindsi Sometimes they con- 
tain copies of the tnost celebrated figures of antiquity j and 
from them wc not Only identify the likenesses of great peris' 
sonagcSj but also the attitudes of famous works of arti 
The use ai' medals Wa^ widely extended anciicntlvj it being 
a privilege to a city to possess its own mint ; hence they are 
associated in collections of medals by their countries, as 
Roman, Grecian, Syfianj Persian, &c. Whether medals 
generally were Used as coins, is uncertain i some appear to 
have been so used i others are so well preserved as to de- 
monstrate that they never passed current from hand to hand : 
but perhaps they were for the most part intended as coinage^ j 
though not all were applied to that use. It is very remark- 
able that out of tile thousands of medals known, very few 
are exact duplicates : their types may resemble each other 
pretty closely, but they usually diflcf in sometJiing. 

MEDALLION is a medal of larger size than ordinary. 

MELTED. Colours arc said to be melted ^ when they 
arc united into each other, with softness, gciuleness, and 
gradation .' so that they arc free frorti harshness and rawness 
of appearance, but agreeably amUse the eye< As nature 
has nothing harsh in its appearance,- but a;lways interposes a 
medium between two extremes t'vhether of liffht and shadow, 
or of opposing colour?,- it is of gfeat consequence to imitate 
her in this management ^ and to this (he proper intelligence 

•, . of 

150- M O U 

of reflections, whether of light, or of colours, greatly con* 

MINIATURE Painting has been already explained. 

MINUTE, an architectonic measure, the lower diameter 
of a column divided into sixty parts ; each part is a minnte* 

MIRROR is a verv useful article to a painter, as a kind 
of critic to which he may appeal on all occasions : by the 
distance it gives to objects, and by reversing them, it shews 
many defects, of which an artist mio-ht not otherwise be 
convinced. It shews principally the effect of the masses^ 
their relations, the force and distribution of colours, &c* 

MODELS are objects of whatever nature, which are par- 
ticularly studied, and copied, by artists. At the academy, 
the model is usually set naked, for the study of the figure. 

MODELLING is explained in Comp. of Colours. 

MODILLION, an ornament resembling a bracket, adopt* 
cd in the Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite cornices. 

MODULE, an architectonic viea^ure) the lower diameter 
of a column divided into two parts ; one is a module: each 
module is divided into thirty minutes', thus neither is a 
determinate, but a proportionate measure. 

MOSAIC, anciently and properly called Musa'ique, opus 
Musivum, is a manner of work, wherein, by placing side 
by side a vast number of little hits of coloured stones^ 
or glass, and suiting their forms, and colours, to the requisite 
drawing, it produces representations of various subjects. 
The pieces are inserted into, and united by, a kind of strong 
stucco ; and being themselves of durable materials, they 
retain their freshness and effect for ages. Mosaics are 
always copies of pictures, and their progress is extremely 
slow and tedious ; it was in request among the Romans, 
but is not practised in England. 

MOULDS are hollow casts from some original, which,, 


MUD 151 

having received the exact form of tlie subject, are afterwards 
used to multiplv ihe same, by casts from themselves. They 
are often of sulphur, which being melted and poured on to 
a medal, or bas relief, will take the impression very sharply. 
When applied to larger articles, plaster of Paris is usually 
chosen ; and the cavity of the mould being oiled, when the 
plaster which is to form the cast is poured into it, this being 
mixed with water, will not stick or adhere, but come freely 
out of the parts it had entered. Vide Gypsum. 

Plaster of Paris, which is prepared and calcined gypsiim, 
is chosen to form moulds and casts, because, contrary to 
most other mixtures, it swells in drying, so that it completely 
fills up those parts from which other mixtures would shrink. 

MOUNTING is the drawing of a kind of frame, round 
a print or drawing, which answers the purpose of termi- 
nating the subject; and, by the opposition of its colours, 
of heightening the effect of the composition. If a mount- 
ing is gaudy by its colours, or its contents, it attracts the 
eye from the subject which it surrounds. It is better 
therefore when kept grave and sober ; but this is very dif- 
ferent from being heavy, or offensive. 

Mounting is also used to express the pasting of prints 
on cloth, or &c. whether for the purpose of being framed 
and glazed, or of being rolled on a roller, as maps are, when 
intended to be hung up in an apartment. 

MUDDY is a term used principally in engraving, when 
strokes, &.c. instead of being distinct, clear, and well de- 
fined, produce that kind of effect which we see in lines 
drawn by a pen upon paper which sinks : the sides of such 
lines being foul, confused, and irregular : this arises some- 
times in etchmg, from the point being irregular, or being 
tmskilfully handled ; or, from the copper being porous, in 
which case the action of the aqua-foriis, m biting, is not 


152 NAT 

properly restrained and confined to the lines made. In 
worklrg with the graver, a nuiddy line is. nsually the effect 
of ncghgence in whetting the tool. 

Muddy is sometimes spoken of colours which are dirty, 
i^Qt clear, nor pleasing i but i)egligemly, or affectedly, dark* 
glooniv, and heavy. 


IN AKED expresses ^]\ those parts of a figure which are hoI 
clothed. As it requires skill to execute the naked wcll„ 
artists \\\ general are fond of shewing their ability in. \\)\& 
article. It is, however, icprehcnsihle to introduce it oh all 
occasions ; and however excellent may he the groujie of 
Laocoon and his sons, vet, as it is not to be thought ihey 
engaged naked in the soleniniiy of a sacrifice, i.t alioeks 
probability to represent them so ; a license which it would 
ill become any modern artist to assume. 

The naked requires softness and delicacy :, thii is, how- 
ever, carried loo far by some artists, who forget its firm- 
ness ; but this is a better fi«dt (if faults cw bo at all good) 
tiian hardness and stifl'ncss. 

Naked is also spoken of a compositiorv^ where the objects 
are tiiin, and seattered ; which requires snore variety, ful- 
ness, and richness, to render it picturesque. 

NATUUIC comprehends evcrv visible oi")ject which may 
be represented : whatever ihroughout creation is an object 
of sight, mav be also an object of imitation. 

To imitate Nature, is not to follow or copy objects, jv>int 
bv point, even supposing the articles are of a good choice : 
still less is it just Imitallon of Nature, to take up content- 
edly v.ith her ordinary and inferior productions^ without 


N E A 153 

seeking for beauties more exalted and noble : these ought 
to attract the artist's attention ; nor should he think him- 
self successful short of that perfection which nature is 
capable of producing. Nature is the sovereign and arbitress 
of art, yet rarely or never is totally exempt from defect j 
this the artist must correct in one instance, by assistance 
drawn from observation of other instances, which are free 
from such blemishes. Moreover, many of the beauties of 
nature are fujiitlve and transitory ; these, though of mo- 
mentary duration, the artist must, as it were, seize and 
appropriate, in order to introduce and imitate them in his 

We must not, however, so implicitly attach ourselves to 
nature, as to forbid exertions of genius or study; for most 
parts of nature, when combined with, or opposed to others, 
are liable to ill effects, unless they receive from the artist a 
certain turn, disposition, and application, which harmo- 
nizes them, and renders them acceptable to their associates. 

Unfortunately, many artists, perhaps most, see nature in 
a false or artificial light, such as they have learned to see 
her. Whereas, though art, as we have said. Is necessary 
and useful, yet its province is not to control or contradict, 
but to regulate nature : art inay be termed the editor ot 
nature. The ancients arrived at their perfection on this 
principle, and by judicious assemblage of beauties they 
exceeded the beauty of general nature ; not by surpassing, 
but by combining the divided excellencies of nature. 

NEAT describes a manner in which care has been 
taken to avoid whatever might ofl'end the eye of a spec- 
tator; large subjects are the better for boldness, small sub- 
jects for neatness. In miniature we expect smoothness, 
softness, an arrangement of dots, hatches, &c. which is 
agreeable, and sh^v^'S Jin is fling; hot so in large history 

DiCT. Edit. 7. X pieces. 

154 N U D 

pieces. In engraving also, neatness is a commendation ; it 
denotes a regular, orderly, and suitable conduct of the line* 
and hatches employed; not some thin, others thick; some 
rough, others smooth ; but a pleasing and elegant symmetry 
regulating the whole. 

NICHE, a cavity or hollow in a wall for statues, 8cc. 

NIGHT-PIECE is a representation of some of those 
effects which occur by night; such as moon-light, star- 
light, torch-light, &c. Night-pieces being often illumi- 
nated by artificial light, are capable of effects very favour- 
able to art : we have lately seen Mr. Wright demonstrate 
this truth. There is a Nativity of Corregio, in which 
the beauty of effect is so conspicuous, that it has, by way 
of eminence, been entitled " The Night of Corregio." The 
idea of night has usually something gloomy connected with 
it; but certain masters have found the method of rendering 
night-pieces equally pleasing with those of any other time, 
or of any more customary effect. 

NIMBUS is an obsolete term, signifying the rays placed 
by painters, &c. around the heads of saints, &c. At pre- 
sent it is rather termed a Glory. Its use is to distinguish 
the personages to whom it is applied, when no action par- 
ticularly striking is performing by them. 

NOBLE is spoken of an artist who has elevated and 
grand ideas of his subjects ; or of a picture, which contains 
a subject nobly treated, free from base, low, mean, and vile 
ideas, characters, expressions, 8:c. from degrading and dis- 
agreeable effects of any kind. Some persons have a happy 
talent of rendering even trilling subjects in a dignified and 
noble manner. 

NUDITY is sometimes taken for the naked in general, 
but usually for those [.arts which nature teaches to conceal : 
that any good painter shoild (ind satisfaction in represent- 
ing, or in omitting to conceal them, is astonishing ' 


OPT 155 


Objects, in the arts, are whatever is capable of Imita- 
tion in design and painting. Objects should be touched 
according to their places; whether near or remote, they 
should be drawn and coloured, and in short throughout 
reprc-JL-nted, as nature itself would appear if so situated. 

OBSCURE is in one sense the same as shadow, i. e. in 
opposition to light. In another sense, a subject is obscure 
when it is not easy to determine what it represents, and 
this is but too frequently the case in emblematic subjects; 
or a well-known subject may be treated with so little intel- 
ligence, that the representation of it becomes obscure, 
pictures become obscure when their colours are so faded 
that scarcely any traces of their effects remain ; and a mas- 
ter is obscure when his reputation has been confined to a 
small circle, and is not generally known. 

OIL-RUBBER, in engraving, is a roll of felt, such as 
hats are made of, or of woollen cloth, &c. which, beino" 
tightly rolled up and tied, is used to polish plates, to take 
off the tarnish from them, and occasionally to fill in the 
strokes made by the graver, that their effect may be the 
better seen. Too much oil-rubbing wears away delicate 
work ; for which reason the oil-rubber is useful to erase 
slight scratches, stains, &c. from the surface of a plate. 

OPPOSITION of colours (the same as Antipathy), of 
lights and shadows, of forms, of characters, of effects, of 
expressions, contributes to excellence by diversity and force. 

OPTICS is a necessary study to artists; not only as it 
forms part of perspective, but as it teaches them what 
effects their works are likely to have when finished, and 

X a, placed 

t$o OR! 

placed in their stations. The effects of natural objects 
being altogether subject to the rules of optics, must needs 
render this study desirable to an artist. Its principles, 
though not very abstruse to diligent attention, are yet too 
extensive to be treated here. 

ORDER, in architecture, a column entire, consisting of 
base, shaft, and capital, with an entablature. 

ORDONNANCE, in painting, differs little from dispo- 
sition, or the distribution and situation of objects which 
compose the representation. To disj)lay well the subject of a 
picture, an artist should long meditate on the ingredients of 
it, even before he sketches them ; then let him draw from 
his ideas their disposition, situation, plan, correspondence, 
relation to each other, and to the whole, thereby producing 
order, elegance, spirit, and effect : by such proceeding we 
sometimes see objects, as it were, take of their own accord 
their places on the canvas, and without much labour of the 
artist's hand they seem to associate, and compose with 
each other, as if by a magical inspiration derived from the 
mind of their author. 

ORIGINAL is spoken of any work of painting, sculp- 
ture, design, &c. after nature, or the fruit of inven- 
tion. It is not easy to determine whether a work be an 
original, or a copy, if by a good hand : but, as in treat- 
ing the minor parts, and in the constraint visible in the 
execution and touch of smaller objects, the copyist usu- 
ally fails ; therefore, in examining a picture, &c. with 
intent to determine whether it be an original, we should 
attend (i.) to the invention, and (ii.) to the execution. If 
the Jirst be good,- well studied, and noble, while the latter 
is poor and graceless, it indicates that the same master did 
not perform both parts ; while, on the contrary, if the 
handling and touch correspond to the dignity of sentiment, 

5 ii"^ 

OR! 157 

and shew facility and promptitude, such as might be ex- 
pected from the master whose manner of thinking and con- 
ception appears in the composition, &c. it may be pro- 
nounced either an original, or equal to an original in merit 
and value. 

Julio Romano is said to have taken for an original on 
which himself had worked, a copy by Andrea del Sarto* 
On being convinced of his error by a private mark behind 
the canvas, he exclaimed, it was superior to an original, as 
containing the merit of three masters, viz. Raphaelle 
(the author of the piece), himself, and Del Sarto. 
Although it is not easy to determine whether a piece be 
original, yet if it be meritorious, what more is wanting to 
give satisfaction on inspecting it ? 

If it be difficult to distinguish whether a performance 
be an original or a copy, it is no less difficult to dis- 
tinguish whether it be a work of the master whose name 
is affixed to it : both connoisseurs and picture-dealers under- 
stand very well the art of christerdng their pictures, either 
with or without sufficient authority. Although it be pleas- 
ing to possess the work of a great master, and so far a 
name is of value, yet as a name adds but little to the merit , 
of a piece, we should by no means overvalue the name of 
the reputed author. There are many drawings and pictures 
of great merit, whose authors are unknown ; but which 
are amply recommended by the spirited invention, the 
forcible expression, and the liberty of pencil they mani- 
fest, and which demonstrate their originality. In some 
cases an original cannot be procured, as when painted 
on a wall ; then a copy must content us. Often an artist 
made several repetitions of the same composition, though 
seldom a capital artist did so without some variation : these, 
if executed by himself, aie all originals, though in fact one 


158 P A t 

was the prototype of the others. As copies are less esteemed 
because they arc servile, stiff, and heavy, so originals are 
valued for their freedom and firmness ; to which should be 
added, an original and just manner of thinking, of com- 
position, and of interesting the mind of a spectator by the 
medium of his eye. 

ORNAMENTS, although they contribute very much to 
the decoration and embellishment of a picture, yet require 
great taste and discretion in the artist to distribute them 
well : as accessories they are apt to predominate. Pearls, 
precious stones, gold, &c. ought to be happily introduced 
or totally omitted; at any rate they ought to be rather 
scarce than profuse. Even ornaments in architecture, if 
too crowded, lose their effect, and injure more material 
articles : in a picture they are too closely allied to minutiae. 

OUTLINE is the same as Contour. Outlines ought 
to be pure, gliding, graceful, and free; not hard, nor 
offensive, nor every where equally visible, or equally detached 
from the back ground. 

OUTRE, excessive, exaggerated, forced, beyond nature. 

J: AINTING is the art of representing objects by means of 
design and colours. As nature is infinitely various, as well 
in objects as in effects, and painting an imitative art of un- 
limited extent, like the source from whence it originates, 
the greatest genius may find sufficient scope for exertion in 
any one branch of art to which it inclines ; and excellence 
in this is very much to be preferred before a superficial 
acquaintance with many branches. 


PAS 159 

Painting is usually divided into several classes. 

Painters of History. 

Painters of Portraits. 

Landscape Painters. 

Battle Painters. 

Marine or Ska-piece Painters, 

Animal or Cattle Painters, 

Flower Painters. 

Architecture Painters. 

Decoration and Scene Painters, 

Still-life Painters. 

Miniature Painters. 

Painters in Enamel. 

Painters on Glass, &c. &c. 

As to the manners of painting, they have already been 
treated : it is easy to perceive that each department requires 
much study and knowledge, as well as management proper 
to itself. 

PASSAGE signifies the gradation of different tints of 
colours, &c. into each other, and the interval between the 
Jights and shades of an object represented : such passage 
should be insensible and imperceptible. For this effect the 
light should gradate into the shadow, and the shadow into 
the light, the whole harmonizing by means of the demi- 
tints ; so that each seems to be but a continuation of the 
other, and losing itself, as it were, in the other, yet mani- 
festing a distinction, though not a harshness. 

PASSIONS have been already treated in the Lectures : 
•they must always be studied from nature, and in the best 
antiques and pictures. The philosophical study of the pas- 
sions, if not indispensable to an artist, yet cannot fail of 
being extremely useful to him on many occasions. 


i6o PET 

PASTICHE. This is an Italian term, applies^ to pic- 
tures painted by one master in the manner of another mas- 
ter, counterfeiting not only his style of drawing, but also 
his colouring, handling, See. Vide Imitator. 

MiGNARD, to pique Le Brun, painted a Magdalen in 
the manner of Guido ; he put on her head a cardinal's cap, 
and painted the tresses of her hair, &c. upon it : it was so 
perfect an imitation, that Le Brun, and every body with 
him, regarded it as a genuine Guido. Mignard alone 
maintained the contrary, and, to prove his property, told 
them they would find painted under the hair a cardinal's 
cap. Le Brun, thus convinced, replied to him, '* Well, 
then, always paint Guides." 

PATERA, a shallow vase, or rather a kind of saucer, 
used by the ancients in their sacrifices. On medals we often 
sec the figures of divinities, &c. holding out a. patera, as if 
to receive their share of the offerings. In architecture, the 
patera serves as an ornament in the frieze of the Doric 
order, Sec. As this was a sacred utensil, its application is 
proper to sacred edifices, temples, &c. among the ancients. 

PEDESTAL, a square body on which columns, &c. arc 

PEDESTRIAN, in sculpture, is a figure standing on its 
feet, in contradistinction from equestrian. 

PEDIMENT, a low triangular ornament in the front of 
buildings, and over doors, windows, &c. 

PERSIAN FIGURES. Vide Caryatides. 

PERSPECTIVE has been treated in the Lectures. 

IL PETIMENTO is an Jtahan term, used to signify 
those studies in which the parts are turned various ways; for 
instance, several heads, or anns ; legs thrown about on all 
sides, &c. whereby the author has endeavoured to discover 
and jjelect that attitude which best suited his subject. 


P O R !6i 

PIAZZA, a continued arched way or vaulting, under 
which to walk, &c. 

PICTURESQUE signifies what is allied to picture, and 
coincides with its principles, relating either to attitude, 
composition, or expression. It has heen defined — **a piquant 
and singular choice of natural effects, heightened with spirit 
and taste, and supported by reason and intelligence." 

PIER, a kind of pilaster or buttress, to support, 
strengthen, or ornament. The pier of a bridge is the foot 
or support of the arch ; the wall between windows or doors 
is a pier ; also square pillars of stone or brick, to which 
gates to an entrance are hung. 

PILASTER, a square pillar or column, usually placed 
against a wall, projecting not more than one fifth or one 
sixth of its diameter ; has the same proportions and orna- 
ments as a column, but no diminution. 

PILLAR. This word is generally used in architecture, 
in common with column, though, strictly speaking, they 
are different; thus the supporters in Gothic architecture are 
pillars, but can never be properly termed columns, from 
which they vary in shape and every particular. 

PLASTER Figures are casts from moulds taken from 
originals of the same size : they are among the most agree- 
able, convenient, and beneficial subjects of study, and by 
their means the beauties of the most exalted models of art 
are communicated to many students, and at a reasonable 
purchase. Vide Gypsum. 

PORCH, an arched way or covering at the entrance ot 
great bi.ilciings, particularly churclies. 

PORTICO, a continued range of coluiTins covered at top, 
to shelter from the weather; also a common name to build- 
ings which have covered walks supported bv pillars. It 
had anciently these distinctions, when on the outside of 

DiCT. Edit. 7. Y the 

i6a P O K 

the building it was called peripterium ; and wVicn on *he in- 
side of a hall, court, &c. perstyi'mm; the i)iace lof walii- 
ing, porticus. Among the ancients these were iJi.hlv onia- 
niented, and of great extent. The remains of itie jjorueo 
at Palmyra shew it to have been fall four thousanu feet lona:. 
There was a square portico at Athens, whose circumference 
was fourteen lumdred feet, adorned with Corinthian pillars, 
and a great variety of excellent paintings, and therefore called 

PORTRAIT, a representation of some particular person, 
whom it so closely resembles as to be readily known by 
those acquainted with the original. 

The merit of portrait-painting is not confined to mere 
likeness, line for line; a very middlmg painter may herein 
perform wonders; but to likeness must be added, expres- 
sion of the temperament, the character, air, and disposi- 
tion of the person painted. Every person has his appro- 
priate character, which must be hit at the most favourable 
moment, and to the best advantage ; for although flattery 
be with reason condemned in portraits, yet as every person 
looks better, in every sense, at some times than at others, 
it is surely very allowable that his best and most agreeable 
appearance should rather be selected than his less happy 
moments; and if when he sits for his picture it be not 
his most favourable time, why should not a painter art- 
fully treat his portrait with reference to such favourable ap- 
pearance? But this must be done secundum art em, with- 
out exaggeration, or violation of fidelity ; it must be so 
concealed as to seem the spontaneous effect of nature itself. 

It is allowable, when the original has defects or blemishes, 
to conceal them by art: for instance, I'rince Antigonus;, 
who had but one eye, was drawn by Apellfs in profile on 
the other side of his face; and thus Le Bkun has repre- 

PRO 163 

sented Alexander (who stooped in his neck). in such aa 
attitude, as, by its condescension, artfully conceals that 
bad habit. 

■■ The natural character and mental disposition of any per- 
son should be faithfully preserved and gracefully r.dorned ; 
if he be naturally grave, by no means represent him laugh- 
ing, but endeavour at dignity ; if he be naturally jovial and 
merry, let him not be austere in his portrait, but temper 
his mirth with manliness ; keep beauty free from affectation, 
and only heighten it with grace. 

POSITION. Vide Attitude. 

PRIMING is an operation performed on the cloths pre- 
pared for painters' use before they are fit to receive colours. 
As the cloth is not close between the threads which com- 
pose it, these interstices must be filled up, roughnesses, &c, 
must be smoothened, so that the whole surface may be 
level, uniform, and neat. The first layer is usually, we 
believe, a coat principally of glue to fill up the threads, then 
the cloth is rubbed with pumice-stone, afterwards a coat of 
oil-colour, of a proper lint and mixture, is spread over the 
whole with a large and pliable knire. Many old painters 
preferred white for the primed grounds of their cloths, 
others painted on t!ie cloths without priming. The present 
cold grounds were introduced by Sir Godfrey Kneller : 
a much better effect would be produced by priming of a 
redder, warmer hue; some have thought a priming of dis- 
temper was superior to all others. 

PRIMITIVE COLOURS are white, yellow, blue, red, 
and black ; from mixtures of which all others may be com- 

PROFILE is a side view of any object, as of a building, 
&c. ; but is gencrallv used in reference to a face seen on 
one side only, as on medals, coins. Sec. It is seldom a 

Y 2 profile 

i64 PRO 

profile is so graceful a likeness as a three quarters or nearly 
ftill face, because it permits less artifice of light and shadow, 
and possesses less variety. 

PRONOUNCED, a metaphorical expression, used in de- 
sign, to signify a part. Sec. well marked, accurately ren- 
dered and expressed ; as of hands and feet, for instance, to 
express with firmness and decision the outlines, the joints, 
&c. ; and in a figure, the hands, the feet, &c. As in 
language we pronounce our words distinctly by which we 
compose a sentence, so in design we pronounce distinctly 
the parts by which we compose a whole ; but as we wish 
to speak without harshness, though articulately, so should 
our figures appear without harshness, though well pro-^ 

PROOFS are impressions taken off at the roHing-pre3» 
by engravers, in order to observe the progress of their plates, 
and the truth of their work. 

Pkoofs are also a small number of impressions taken off 
when the plate is finished, but usually before the insertion 
of the writing (which omission is meant to distinguish them 
from succeeding prints) : they are therefore printed in the 
prime state of the plate, before it has received any injury 
from working, and may justly be supposed to present the 
workmanship of the engraver in all its beauty. This, to- 
gether with the small number taken off, greatly enhances 
their value. 

PROI'ORTION is the relation of the dimensions of parts 
to the whole, or to each other; it is that establishment, or 
law of nature, whereby lengths and breadths of mem- 
bers, &c. are fixed and decided. As without the just intel- 
ligence of proportion, every object runs the risk of becoming 
unnatural, it is evident that those whose study and business 


R A S 165 

it is to follow nature, ought to be intimately acquainted with 
those regulations which nature has appointed. 

PROPRIETY is the regulator of composition, deter- 
mining not only the whole, but also the parts ; including 
the disposition, character, and effect of every object ; the 
truth, decorum, and probability of every thing introduced* 

It is to be lamented that many artists will not give them- 
selves the trouble to acquire competent information on this 
article, whose control would prevent those absurdities which 
disfigure many capital productions ; such as naked figures in 
sacred buildings ; dogs fighting for bones in royal palaces ; 
modern dresses in treating antique subjects. Sec. which are no 
less misplaced than cannons and muskets in Alexander's bat- 
tles. These glaring faults are not less reprehensible, though 
less laughable, than a straight sheath to a bended scymitar ; 
Vulcan's forge placed against tapestry hangings ; or a 
Cyclops holding in his hand one end of a bar of red-hot 
iron, while he hammers the other end : nor will propriety 
permit Eve to wear woven and silken garments, or Adam to 
support an immense peruke full curled and powdered. The 
control of propriety extends even to smaller subjects, and 
when consulted by artists, is of very great utility in pre- 
venting errors. 

PYRAMID, a structure, which, from a square, trian- 
guhr, or other base, rises gradually to a point. 


JlvASP is a tool used by sculptors : there are several kinds, 
as straight, bent, &c. having teeth of different degrees cf 
fineness. The rasp differs from a file by the projection of 
its teeth. 


i66 REP 

RECESSION is the reverse to advanxing : its principles 
are tenderness, union, and even indistinctness. It is best 
seen when opposed to its contrary. 

REDUCTION is the manner of copying large subjects 
on a smaller scale. To do this vvith accuracy, the original 
is divided into a certain number of squares, by means of 
lines (threads, if it be a picture, just tacked at the outside 
on the straining frame) drawn from top to bottom, and 
crossed by others from side to side; the proposed copy is 
next divided into an equal number of squares, which are so 
much smaller in proportion to the former, as the copy is 
less than the original. By observing accurately in the cor- 
responding parts of the squares, where the contours fall, 
the whole is outlined with great readiness and exactness. 
This method is not only the simplest, but also the most 
correct, notwithstanding all endeavours to perfect mathe- 
matical instruments for this service. 

REFLECTION is the rebounding of rays of light from 
one body or surface to others ; rays thus reflected always 
partake somewhat of the colour of that object which 
lebounds them, and hereby produce a variety of tender 
effects, which in painting have an admirable delicacy and 
truth, very greatly promoting harmony and union. 

RELIEF or RELIEVO, in sculpture. Vide Alto or 

RELIEF, in painting, signifies that distinctness and dif- 
ference of objects from their back grounds, whereby they 
seem to project and advance. Thus white stands off from 
black, as black from white; thus a dark tree relieves against 
a bright sky, or a while steeple against a heavy cloud : this 
is a principal ingredient in force. 

RIlPETITION of a design, picture, Sec. is one per- 
formed by the same artist who produced the original, gene- 

RES 167 

rally to oblige some friend. Repetitions are not always 
mere copies, but the artist inserts variations, &c. according 
to his fancy or his judgment. 

7b REPEAT HIMSELF, is equivalent to copy h'im^elf\ and 
is a fault arising from want of variety, and fecundity of 

REPOSE is that effect of a piece on the eye, whereby it 
becomes an object to be inspected with pleasure and conti- 
nued satisfaction. 

Glare exceedmgly offends the eye; it may attract notice 
at first, but after a very little time the eye turns away 
satiated, for want of something to relieve and interest it. 
But when glare is moderated by repose, the composition 
becomes not only attractive to the eye, but also retentive 
of its inspection. 

The principles of repose are breadth of tender lights and 
shades supporting each other, forbidding all strong spots 
of I'ght, or holes of dark, but delighting in gentle grada- 
tions and allied variety. 

REPOSO is an Italian term, applied to a picture repre- 
senting the Holy Family resting on tlicir journey to Egypt, 
or ill Egypt after their journey. 

REi- b^MBLANCE, a conformity of lines, colours, ex- 
pressions, &c. of a copy to an original, whether tbat ori- 
ginal be naiuie or any cinev, or in whatc-ver manner that 
copy be made. In portraiture, to which it is most fre- 
quently applied, it expresses the likeness produced in a pic- 
ture to the person w ho sits for that purpose. Very accurate 
resemblance is sometimes the result of labour ; but as this 
is not the whole which ought to be sought in a picture, it 
should always be remembered that grace, character, ex- 
pression, and dignity, are proper associates with resem- 
blance. It is not always that a resemblance is caught in 
5 tl-^e 

i68 - R O T 

the first stages of a picture ; and let not the artist nor the 
patron be discouraged at this — if the picture be like when 
finished, that is enough. On the other hand, it often 
happens that a picture which is like the party at first, loses 
part of its resemblance in finishing. Many masters when 
in the early stages of a portrait they have been happy in 
catching the resemblance, have there terminated their, and would proceed no funhtr. 

RETOUCHED Pictuuks, are those which having been 
nearly completed by a master's disciples, are afterwards 
finished by his own hand. Among masters of great busi- 
ness, this is a common practice, ifnd many have regularly 
retouched their pupils' copies. 

Retouched is also spoken of a picture repaired, or 
restored where damaged. In speaking of engravings, it is 
always taken in this sense, for reparations done to a plate 
after it has been injured, by working a great number of 

RICH. A rich picture is one in which all that relates 
to the subject is represented by figures placed with ehgance 
and propriety, where the groupes, the forms, the tints of 
colours, he. arc so managed, allied, and supported, o dis- 
tributed throughout the whole, that the eye wanders, as it 
were, from part to part with complete satisfaction, and 
without injury to the principal or leading ingredient of the 
piece, which retains all its precedence and importance. 
jRich is sometlnKs spoken of the accompaniments of a sub- 
ject, when the accessories are noble, grand, ornamental, 
and becoming, and when they not only mark, but illustrate 
the mniii incident represented. 

ROTUNDA, a building which is round both within and 


S C H 169 

To.ROUND A FIGURE, or other-object, is to, give it the 
appearance of those prominent, and those withdrawing parts, 
those advancings and retirino;s which nature offers. As thig 
is to be efteeted on a flat surface, it has its diffiouUy ; but 
is usually accnmpiished by close attention, to the lights and 
shadows, and especially to the reflex lights, whose eff"ect is 
weaker than that of the main light, and contributes greatly 
to produce a rounding of parts. 

RUINS, as a part of Landscape, have already been 
treated in the Lecture?. 

In general, when Ruins are spoken of, the expression 
refers to views of those majestic remains of antiquity with 
•which Italy abounds, whose mutilated remains produce 
very noble effects. 

RUSTIC : the term is applied to those stones in a build- 
ing which are hatched, or picked in holes, resembling a 
-natural rough appearance. 


OANDBAG is a kind of cushion used by engravers ; it is 
from four to six or more inches in breadth, in thickness 
one to three inches : it is composed of two surfaces of lea- 
ther, strongly sewed together, and filled with fine sand. It 
is used bv being placed on the table, where it keeps the 
plate which is laid upon it somewhat raised from the table, 
for the greater facility of being turned in all directions, ac- 
cording to the course of the stroke then cutting. Some 
engravers use a tin case, flat at bottom, but somevi'hai 
rounded at top, and covered with leather, which at once 
serves the purposes of a sandbag and of a case to hold tools : 
it is made of a convenient size for being carried in the 

SCHOOL is a term expressing that series of artists who 
DicT. Edit. 7, 7, have 

,70 S C II 

have lived iii any country, and wiiose works, thereforcy 
have possessed more or less conformity ot manner and 
principles.-!- "'' .vii ;>ri':nv/ c.;.. .;o.a;^fi,.;b£ ^a^il^ 

The term also describes • the disdplos of 'a' great master, 
Avho, driiwiiig-their' principles; from the 'sawve.&oartey may 
naturally be sivpposed to have many ideas and modes m 
common. The term school, therefore, is leather .ailied. to 
the style of art and resemblance of manner, than to ideotiLy 
.of country or of residence. ' '"' 

Of national schools, the principal, are the Ed MAN i. the 
Venetian, the Lombard, the Flemis^-j to which may 
be added, the German, the French, and latterly the 
English. As each of these schools has its respective 
manner, a few hints on each may be acceptable. : . / 
. ;.The Italians drew from the antique such superiors adyan- 
tages of style and elegance, that the Romans <wlJ.) espe- 
cially abounded in antiquities) surpassed all their, Compe- 
titors in purity of Design: not contented with.a mere nni- 
tation of nature, they endeavoured, like the authors ot the 
examples before them, to surpass and improve it. Thejr 
happily adopted the most noble and interesting atti- 
tudes and expressions of the figure. The countenance they 
tathei^ wished to render vigorous than beautiful j cons>deni^ 
lit as'the irii^ror of our passions and' sensations. 
-'^The Veihetian school, unequal in purity of design to the 
'Roman, because not favoured svith such excellent m- 
8tructorfr> applied itself to the more captivating graces- of 
colouring;' and its dcpciidcnt principles; nor was its labour 
without ^sucit'ea^; the abilities of Titian, Pallo Vero- 
NESE, &c'. have secured its reputation. • '^ ^^ "^^"' 

CoRREGlo, as chief of "the Lombard ' sebool, siidceeded 
wonderfully in colouring, in breadth, and greatness of man- 
ner; but being, equally with Venice, destitute of capital ari- 
iiques, the Lombard school has little to boast of in Design 


sen 171 

The Flemish, and German schools, never proposed to 
themselves (like the Roman) to surpass nature, to add new 
beauties, to omit, or conceal actual blemishes, but confined 
iheir excellence to fidelity. They succeeded, indeed, in that, 
to the prejudice of other no less important branches of art. 
If the person, for instance, who sat as a model of Venus or 
Juno, was herself beautiful, the goddess was a gainer by 
her beauty, and appeared in correspondent charms ; if, on 
the contrary, the model was unamiable, so much the worse 
for the goddess, who suffered correspondent injustice. To 
this exact and faithful imitation of nature, they owe never- 
theless, that truth and vigour of colouring, and that union 
of effect, for which their productions are examples to painters 
pf other nations. 

The works of the French school, coincident with the ge- 
nius of the nation, possess vivacity and lightness : conipot 
tsitions lively and animated ; brilliant, not solid j sparkling, 
not rich j and fluttering, rather than elegant. The quick 
imagination of the French forbids that continuance, perse- 
verance, and depth of study, which might raise them tp 
equality with the Italian schools. Yet they possess a certain 
sprightliness, pleasure, joy, all life and spirit, the toujours 
gatj the laughing loves, which to those who object not to 
fairy land, are highly entertaining., 

The English school seems to bid fair for rivalling the 
Italians in solidity of style and depth of thought; but whe- 
ther it will equal them in composition, or in colouring, is 
a*problem not yet solved; nor, perhaps, capable of solution, 
while portrait-painting is the branch of art principally en- 
couraged by the British public. 

In sculpture, the genius of the various nations seems much 
the same as in painting. In engraving, the French have 
t^ken the lead, which seems 7ioiv abandoned to the English. 

It must be understood, that exceptions to these cha- 

z 2 ractcristica 

172 SET 

racteristlcs of the schools, are not infrequent: not all the 
Komans were great dcaigneis: and among the Flemings, 
Rubens, Vandyck, and others, have much to boast of be- 
side colouring. Le Sueur, Le Brun, Poussin, were hardly 
French in manner or composition. 

SCRAPE is a term used to express the operation of con- 
ducting a subject in mezzotinto, which is not properly by 
engraving, for that requires thiit the copper be cut out with 
a tool, whereas the progress of mezzotinto is effected by 
scraping away thai burr which otherwise would print entirely 

SCRAPER is a thin tool somewhat like the blade of a 
penknife, which being whetted to a sharp edge toward the 
point, is used by engravers in mezzotinto, for cutting away 
the burr from the plate, in order to produce the lights. 

Scraper is a tool used by engravers to cut off the lurr 
xvhich accompanies strokes made by a graver. It is some- 
times square, sometimes triangular, &c. It is used also 
to scrape away blemishes, or to take out parts which 
require to be replaced by others. 

SCULPTURE has been already treated. 

SECTION is a term in architecture, signifying a geome- 
trical representation of the internal construction of a house. 
Sec. the wall which forms the impediment to such a sight 
being supposed absent. If the front wall, for instance, 
be supposed absent, then the whole interior of the front 
^ooms is shewn in the section : if the side wall (or any other) 
be absent, then so much o^ the rooms, &c. as adjoined 
that wall is rendered visible. This representation by sections, 
though absolutely ideal, is yet very useful to shew the con- 
nexions of apartments, and how they are adapted to each 
other. It shews also (heir measures, proportions, &c. 

To SET A MODEL is to give it that situation, light, atti- 

tudc; Sec. in which it is to be studied, 


S H A 173 

SHADES may be taken in senses somewhat different^ 
as being more or less gradated toward shadow. It seems 
improper, to say a hght shadow j the terms arc contradic- 
tory; yet we say, a lighi, or perhaps, more properly, a sliglU 
shade, and thus it may be considered as allied to dcmi-tint; 
and shade may be intermediate between demi-tlnt and 

SHADOWS. Vide the Lectures : vide also Chiaro 
oscuRO, Darks, &c. 

Shadows are those stronger shades, which being al- 
most totally "deprived of light, seem dark and deep. Sha- 
dows by their opposition relieve and heighten the piquancy 
of the lights : but they should support each other, by com- 
position, and by apposition. Being well composed, they 
should form masses of combined effort; being properly 
placed, they should relieve the eye of a spectator, by sober 
harmony, and by correct reference to the general principles 
of the piece. 

Shadows deprive the parts they obscure, of much of that 
difference of colour, and piquancy of colour, which other 
parts exposed to the light possess : so that green, blue, 
brown. Sec. differ less from each other's colour in the sha- 
dows, than they do in the lights. In fact, if all shadows were 
assimilated in colour, the eye, properly placed, would hardly 
distinguish the deception. 

Strono; shadows should never mingle amono- strong lisfhts. 

Strong shadows should never cross the members of a 
f gnre, whether naked, or clothed. 

Strong; shadows should be reserved till wanted. 

SHARPNESS is a fault, when found at the edges, or 
outlines, of objects, it renders those objects too cutting 
to the eye, and as if ihcv were pasted on the picture, or 
drawing, iu which they occur : but sharpness^ as signifying 

n. more 

174 S K E 

a more marked and distinct representation of Certain parts, 
is an advantrage, not to those parts onlv, but to the whole 
piece, if if be well placed, as it contributes to verisimility 
and to finishing; and greatly to effectj as making certain 
parts tell more effisctualjy to the eye of the spectator. 

SILENCE is a name given to a picture representing the 
sacred Child, who is asleep, held by his holy Mother, who is 
reprimanding somebody, usually St. John the Baptist, for 
attempting to wake him. To desire authority for such 
representations, would be to, embarrass painters beyond 
their ability ; they must stand as instances of unrestrained 

SILVERY is spoken of a tone of colouring which is bright 
and clear; rather a little grey, perhaps, but no more than 
js agreeable. The silvery tone of Teuiers in some of his 
pictures is much admired. 

SIMPLICITY is equally removed from insipidity, and 
extravagance. It is the effect of a cood choice, the enemy 
of affectation, the usual companion of grace, and the gene- 
ral attendant on nature, especially when not vitiated by over 

SKETCH is the first labour of the hand to represent 
conceptions of the mind ; the first form given to ideas : a 
sketch perfected becomes a finished performance. The slight 
skeUlt of a master is more valuable than the laboured finish.!- 
ings of ignorance. 

Sketches are usually first thrown upon paper with chalk, 
&c. Those smaller pictures arc also called sketches, which 
a master makes before he proceeds to forward a large work : 
in these he sees not merely the effect of his design, but of 
his colours, his keeping, and (jf the wliole ordonnance in ge- 
neral, and he varies them in his finished perfortnance ac- 
cording to remarki^ and improvemculs niiiue on his sketcl*. 



SOT 175 

SKETCH. Vide Drawings. 

SKY. Vide the Lectures on Perspective. .-■,'■■ 

SLAVISH. Vide Copy, Constraint. To copy even na- 
ture slavishly, is to injure genius; whose flights, when conr 
ducted by judgment, are not depreciated by freedom. But 
in general slavery may be considered as indicating a little 
(and perhaps ill-taught) practitioner, accustomed rather to 
see nature obscurely through borrowed optics, than clearly 
for himself. .'. ■ ; 

SOFFIT, the under part or ceihng of a cornice, which 
4s usually ornamented ; the under part of the coroiia is called 
the soffit ; this word is also applied to the ceiling of anarch,- 
the under side of an architrave, &c. 

SOFT. ' This term has two senses : in painting the soft* 
-fiess of flesh is. commendable J it results from freshness 
and delicacy of tints, . from' sweetness of outline, and 
from tender management of the articulations :— i. e. the 
nuiscles are plump, as if in health, instead of being, shrunk, 
as if suflering under famine ; thev are full,^a« if clothed with 
fat, and with skin^ rather than as jf they, were, stripped to 
shew their anatomy. ^'AVAk<i^^ 

' Softness is in draperies a defect;, though draperies 
should not be hard, or dry, vet they may be treated on the 
^ther extreme, and, through excess of softness, fail of that 
effect which they have in nature, and ought to have in imi- 
tation. ■ : 

To SOFTEN THE touches in a picture, i:^ to work the 
etlges of them kindly into theirneighbours, to avoid hard- 
ness : it is to manage the lights and shadows, so that they 
agreeaWy issue in each, other ; without cutting against eac'h 
other, and thereby^ofiending the eye. ; 

SoFTSis&s is spoken of > the general result or eff'ect of a 
--i,;i£.n ■•. ; ! represeptalion : 

176 S P I 

representation : this arises from judicious combination of 
principles, and from delicacy in management of the parts. 

A picture may be too soft ; it may want spirit. A draw- 
ing, especially in water-colours, may be too soft ; it iH?.y 
want decision: and an engraving may be too soft ; it may 
want force and effect. 

SOUL of a figure, or of a picture, is taken in a sense re- 
lated to Animation, signifying that almost reality and 
life, which happy management bestows on some compo- 
sitions, wherein the figures seem intently employed in such 
actions as the painter has represented. Copies seldom 
possess this fire, and vivacity j they lose it in transcription ; 
and this deficiency forms a principal distinction of such 
imitations. Finishing often deprives a subject of that lively 
and animated touch which it. received from tlie. master at 
first: ov-er-scrupulous correctness. has the same tendency. 

SPATULA is an instrument not unlike a spoon, somr*- 
what broad, and rounded at one end ; the other end is cut 
sqnare. 'It is used by sculptors to model in clay, also by 
jnodcllcrs in wax, to sQirape itheir iigures into form. 

SPEAKING Picture is one which possesses so much 
fidelity, nature, and soul, as to seem almost possessed of 
speech also ; and to need no other endowmentto give it life. 
SPHYNX is a monstrous compound figure, only tolerable 
in allegory. It represents a lioness in the body, with & wo- 
man's head, neck, and breasts. What it originally intended 
is not known : it appears among the hieroglyphics of Eg)^' 3 
and adjacent to the famous .pyramids of that country, is the 
no less famous sphynx, whose leiigth exceeds one hundred 
feet : sphynxes arc used as ornaments to gateways, Sep. 

SPIRIT is, like effect, the result:; fiJcartfAtl combination, 
wherein, by judicious cxmtrast, by force, by life, and anima- 
tion, the objects represented seem to vie with nature herself. 


ST U , 177 

SriRiTED PenC'B«> design, colouring, &c. expresses the 
vigorous exertion of those particular branches of art. 

SPLENDOUR, like brilliancy, to which it is equiva- 
lent, relates either to cftect, or to colouring. The splendour 
of colours is best seen in Rubens's pictures. Splendour 
only, is a very moderate recommendation of a picture : but 
splendour heightens other merits, and renders the whole 
more piquant. 

SQUARE. Vide Reduction, in Perspective. 

STATUE is a representation in sculpture, of a figure 
which should be standing (from the Latin stare, to stand) j 
bat the term is applied to figures in any attitude. 

The Greek statues are generally naked, and of beautiful 
proportions, and execution. 

The Roman statues are generally clothed, and from their 
dresses, receive a variety of names, as Consular, Imperial, &c. 

CuBULAR statues, are figures seated in chairs. 

Allegorical statues, are virtues, vices, rivers, cities^ 
Sec. Vide also Equestrian and Pedestrian. 

STIFF is generally used in relation to attitude, and out- 
line. A stiff attitude is one which represents a figure as if 
constrained, uneasy, forced, in respect of the muscles and 
their actions. Stiffness often arises from the lines formed 
by the actions of the members of a figure being too much 
alike, or seen too direct, without variety, without grace. A 
stiff outline is one which has too much strength, too much 
uniformity, a hardness, a dryness, which shews neither li- 
berty of mind, nor liberty of hand. 

STUDIES are designs taken from nature, of whatever 
subjects are requisite to enter into a composition. When- 
ever an artist has his doubts, he recurs to nature ; whenever 
what he has done appears not equal to what it might be, 
either in correctness, or in cflect, he consults nature. Stu^ 

DiCT. Edit, 7. A A dies_, 

178 STU 

dies, the-refare, comprehend Bgures, beadsjljands, feet, trees, 
plants, animals, flowers, fruits, earth, sky, and water, 
&c. Sec. 

As studies from living models, draperies, &c. may be 
not only composed, but even painted from nature at home, 
nothing need be said concerning them : but with regard to 
landscape, a few hints, relatiiig to the manners of study, 
may be of use. 

, The principles and divisions of landscape have been given 
in the Lectures : to these we refer, and shall only notice 
the smaller parts, or objects. Some painters study the 
objects of their landscapes after nature, in the open air, by 
making exact and finished drawings from them, without the 
addition of colours: others paint them in oil, upon strong 
paper, primed with a demi-Lint; this manner tbey think 
convenient, as the colours, by sinking somewhat into the 
paper, permit a repetition of colour upon colour, and con- 
sequently great exactness. For this purpose, they carry a 
small flat box, which holds pallette and pencils, &c. This 
method is no doubt the most likely to be correct, but it is 
attended with some incumbrance, especially if the objects, 
or the scene to be studied, be distant. Others only draw 
the outlines, and slightly tinge them with colours, to secure 
their memory, and this may be done very conveniently by 
means of a small box of water-colours, which is put in the 
pocket, and holds every material in little room. Some 
painters only inspect very accurately the objects they require, 
and by strength of memory carry away their likeness; while 
some return often to the same spot, or the same object, 
and by repeated investigation study it intimately. I" fact, 
it is well known what changes different lights make in the 
same view, or the same objects, and it seldom happens 
that a single inspection sc!icts the happiest time, or discovers 


SUB 179 

tvery "beauty -of which a scene may be capable. Moreover, 
many beauties of nature are transitory and volatile ; these 
ought to be caught by the black lead pencil, and such 
marks or notes inserted, as may insure a recollection of the 
colours, and other peculiarities. In fact, this is a most 
useful companion 3 as, without loss of time, it secures hints 
sufficient for future reflections, and service. These should 
always be transcribed into colours as soon as may be, 
while the memory retains the ideas with certainty. 

The best time for study has been said to be the evening, 
during twilight, for general light; because, not only the light 
is more equally diffused than in the sharp light of the sun, 
but the effects are warmer than in the morning twilight, 
'who?,e freshness is peculiar to itself. All times of the year, 
or of the day, are best as they are most applicable to the 
business in hand. Studies by night are rather meditations, 
or remarks, than studies. 

STUDIED is spoken of a picture, when it has, through- 
out, the air of exact resemblance to nature, when its parts 
are accurate in form, and effect, and the whole is carefully 
completed and finished. 

STUDY has for its object, whatever is beautiful or ex- 
cellent in nature; and by means of constant examination and 
reflection, study acquires judgment and knowledge, discerns 
accurately the truth of imitation, and ripens the genius to 

STUMP i,s a small roll of paper or soft leather, used to 
stump in the shadows, &c. in drawings, in chalks, or crayons. 

STYLE, in painting, is much the same as style in writing, 
iiignifying the manner in which a master treats the subjects 
he undertakes; whether nobly or meanly; with spirit or 

SUBJECT, is the action, or passage related by the painter, 
A A 2, whether 

i«o S Y M 

whether originating from history, fable, or life. History 
furnishes the most noble and interesting subjects j my- 
thology or theistical fable, the most magnificent ; common 
life the most entertaining; and low life the most droU and 
laughable. But, be it always remembered, that no sub- 
ject which is not perfectly in nature, can possibly be ap- 
plauded by competent judges. 

SUBLIME is a quality not to be attained without exertion 
of the greatest abilities, in the happiest m&nner : because 
no rules can be given to produce what shall be sublime. 

In general we conclude, that unless a composition be 
noble and interesting, the action grand and lofty, the conduct 
masterly, the figures graceful, and the effect striking, it can- 
not be sublime. Sublimity is allied to strength of thought, 
to simplicity of relation, and expression, to pathos, and to 
repose : majesty and dignity, elevation, and sometimes ter- 
ror, contribute to the sublime. But, after all, this quality 
must originate in the mind of the artist, and is not to be ex- 
pected as the fruit of precept or labour. 

SUNK. Colours are said to be siinky or sunk bij when^ 
being laid on a cloth, &:c. they appear flat, lifeless, and void 
of brilliancy : this depends on the state of the cloth, or 
ground colour, upon which these colours are laid : for if not 
sufficiently dry, and hardened, the pil of the colour laid 
over it is absorbed, and the colour itself is left dull. Some- 
times colours which arc sunk recover on being varnished, 
sometimes the parts must be re-painted. 

SWEETEN is spoken in much the same sense as soften, 
in reference to the melting of the edges of colours. Sec. into 
each other. 

SYMPATHY is spoken of colours, and is the contrary 
to Antipathy. 

When the mixture of two colours produces a third, whofle 


T A S i8i 

tone and appearance is agreeable, such colours are said to be 
friendlvj or sympathetica!. Blue, for example, united to 
yellow, forms green ; therefore blue and yellow are friends. 
Blue, on the contrary, mixed with vermillion, produces an 
offensive colour ; whence it follows, that blue and vermillion 
are enemies: although the same blue mixed with another 
kind of red, may form a beautiful purple. 

JL AME, is when a composition, figure, &c. wants anima- 
tion and spirit ; when that vigour which ought to enliven it, 
seems evaporated, and the whole appears as if the artist had 
been void of sentiment, and feeling, while producing it. 

TASTE is a term used to express the mental sentiment 
of the artist while engaged in his work, and which, it is na- 
tural to suppose, he infuses into his performance : so that if 
his taste be elegant and genteel, his works will be graceful ; 
but if irregulair an^ wild, his works will be extravagant. 
When a picture, 8cn. is said to possess taste, it implies that 
it exhibits lively impressions of the artist's mind. The 
term is generally used in a good sense, unless some distin- 
guishing adjective be prefixed. 

Taste is also used to express the satisfaction of a spec- 
tator in surveying a performance, which appears to him ex- 
cellent : thus we say, such a thing is, or is not, to one's 
taste ; i, e. agreeable to one's mental perceptions. 

Taste is sometimes used in the same sense as manner; 
for the peculiar touch, colouring, drawing, See. of any mas- 
ter, or school : and is either natural to an artist, and good, 
or bad, according to his views of nature, and objects ot 

stud\- : 

i8a t H E 

study: ftr Urtifcial; the result of education and habit. 
Taste is also national: every nation having a character pe- 
culiar to itself, in its works of art, which, more or less, 
pervades the manner of the artists of that nation. 

TEASED is spoken of colours, which instead of being 
laid on, and imparted to the canvass at once, are too much 
worked about, ^'htxthy they lose their brilliancy, and just 
effect. This over-care, and want of determinate handling, 
is injurious to all colours, but especially to the lighter. 

TENDER CoLOUKS are those of lighter hues, and best 
adapted for distances, &c. where forcible colours would be 

TENDER Manner, consists in a certain sweet, and soft 
union, of agreeable and pleasant colours; it rejects ail sud- 
den and harsh passages from colour to colour; or from 
light to shade; and delights in harmonious gradations, and 

TERM, is a statue, whose upper part represents a human 
figure, and the lower part usually ends straight : or, with 
mouldings, and sometimes (but rarely) with feet only. 
They were used anciently to mark the boundaries of lands, 
&c. whence they were called termini ; or from the god Ter- 
minus, who was thus represented, and thus employed. 

Terms, as ornaments, are usually placed in gardens, in 
walks, in palisades, &c. being less expensive than statues. 

Marine terms arc lho.;e, whose lower parts end in fishes' 
tails, &(,;. 

Double terms, and even quadruple terms, are sometimes 

THEATRE. The Theatres of the ancients were of a se- 

micircaiar fcjrm, the benches or seats Ccunei) rose above 

one another, and were distributed to the diflcrent orders, in 

the following manner : The foremost rows next the stage, 

4 called 

T H U. 183 

called orokestraj answering to our pit, were assigned lo the 
senators, and ambassadors of foreign states ; fourteen rows 
behind them to the equiics or knights; and the rest to the 
people. That part which we call the stage had this divi- 
sion; scentty the scene itself, adorned with columns, sta- 
tues, pictures, &c. according to the nature of the play ex- 
hibited. Postscen'mnij the place behind the scene, where 
the actors dressed^ &c. Proscenimmj the place before the 
scene, called also the pidpitumy where tlie actors played, 
and the cAorwi came to rehearse, answering to our stage. In 
the Greek theatres, the orchestra, which included a very 
large space, made part of the scene, and here the actors 
danced : the proscenium being very shallow or small. But 
in the Roman theatres, this part assigned to the sena- 
tors. See: there was a kind of canopy, or covering, stretched 
across, to sheltej: from heat or rain, called peplus. 

Theatres were, for a long time, of wood and without 
seats: Pompey first erected a theatre of stone, which would 
contain forty thousand people ; and to avoid the animadver- 
sijOn of the censors, he dedicated it as a temple to Venus : 
there were afterwards several others built; one by Balbus; 
and another dedicated to Marcellus ; which was large, and 
very handsome, as appears by its remains. Adjoining this 
tbea,tr^, behind, and round the stage end, was a large double 
portico, where the spectators took shelter In bad weather. 

THUNDER, or Thunderbolt, is the name given to 
tha.t flame, which more properly represents lightning, and 
is held by Jupiter as God of the sky. It should be a flame 
from which issue darts; but this is varied as suits conve- 
nience. Sometimes it is represented as darting to a consi- 
derable distance. 

This device is occasJQnally used as an ornament in archi- 


i84 T O U 

TIMES. Vide MANNERsTZrs;, second, and third. 

TIMID is nearly the same as constraint ; it is the ab- 
sence of liberty and freedom, and usually marks a copy. 

TINTS of COLOURS, may be conceived as a regular scale ^ 
of colour, descending from light to dark : thus, red may 
be very light, then somewhat lower, then middling, then 
darkish, then very deep; according to its participation of, 
or distance from white, or the nearest approach of redness 
to white. And the same may be said of its relation to any 
other colour: as a reddish-brown tint, a reddish-yellow, Sec. 

TONE of COLOUR, though partly explained by tint, yet 
differs from it, as it relates to the comparative effect of 
colours ; for the actual tint of a part is not varied by the 
introduction of another colour near it, but its apparent tone 
is almost totally changed, by the sympathy or antipathy 
of such a neighbour. A good tone of colours is when the 
whole is well adjusted as a composition of colours. 

TORSO is the Italian name for the hack : this name is 
given by way of eminence to a fragment of a statue of Her- 
cules reposing, which is of capital merit, and of unlimited 
cclcbritv, ever since Michael Angela declared he had learned 
from it the noblest principles of his art, as a sculptor. 

TOUCH is that manner which every master acquires in 
applying his colours on the canvass; in this sense, we say, 
a touch is lighl, delicate, spirited, firm, bold, large, &c. 

Every object in nature is not the same in its appearance; 
some are rough, others smooth, some very opaque and solid, 
others almost transparent: these require distinct touches, 
according to their distinct characters. This principle has 
been carried to excess, bv those who have laboured on larfje 
pictures to touch every thing variously ; because, the dis- 
tance at which such pictures ought to be viewed, counteracts 
the result of their care ; and thus, though the hair of 


T R 185 

the head, of the beard, 8cc. require a different touch from 
the smooth flesh, in a picture calculated for close inspection, 
yet in a large subject thev are taken as masses, because their 
details would be injurious. Bold and strong touches are ne- 
cessary, in whatever is to be surveyed from afar, in order to 
produce their effect more fully. The great art of a good 
touch is, to be neither feeble nor excessive; endeavouring 
at boldness we should avoid hardness, as in endeavouring at 
delicacy we should avoid tameness. 

TRANSPARENT Colours, are those possessing so 
little body that they permit the colours underneath them to 
appear through, thereby producing the effect of glazijig. 

TRANSPARENCIES are paintings upon silk, &c. with 
such thin and transparent colours that the light passes 
through the picture j these are much used for decorations, 
illuminations, 8cc. and by means of artificial and brilliant 
lights placed behind them, they have a very gay and sprightly 
effect. They are painted with oil of turpentine. 

Paintings on glass are transparencies, though not usually 
included under the term. 

TROPHY was originally an assemblage of arm.s, and 
spoils of an enemy, raised by the conqueror in the field of 
battle, as commemorative of his victory : afterwards, imita- 
tive trophies were cut in stone, marble, &c. as triumphal 
• monuments. They are generally used as ornaments and de- 

Tht trophj/ o/'^t'ar is composed of shields and bucklers, 
helmets, swords, lances, &c. and other military iinplemeiUs. 

The marine trophy is formed of prows of ships, oars, 
anchors, &e. 

The trophy of science comprises books, olobes, and other 
articles of study and investigation. 

The trophy of vnt sic consists of violins, flutes, guitars, 8ec. 
DicT. Edit. 7. B B The 

i86 V A S 

The rustic trophy represents ploughs, rakes, harrows, &c. 

Whatever is explicit, and intimately related to the subject 
to be expressed, may enter into a trophy. Vide Iconology. 

TRUTH is spoken of objects so well represented, that 
they are distinguishable at once : they are so natural as to 
require no hesitation to determine for what they are meant. 

There are upon record several very curious instances of 
picturesque truth, such as that of Zeuxis, who painted so 
naturally a boy holding grapes, that the birds came and 
pecked at the fruit : though it must be confessed, the re- 
mark of Zeuxis himself was extremely just, who said, that 
this very deception was a sign the boy was not nature, or 
else he would have frighted away the birds. The rival of 
Zeuxis was Parrhasius, who deceived his competitor, by 
painting a curtain so naturally, that Zeuxis endeavoured to 
lift it up, that he might see what was under it. It is re- 
lated of Rembrandt, in modern times, that having painted 
the picture of his servant maid, he placed it at the window 
of his house, as if she had been looking out; and diverted 
himself highly, by standing behind it, and hearing the ad- 
dresses of passengers to it. 

TYMPAN, the flat surface or space within a pediment. 

Value of COLOURS, vide Colouring. 

VASE, an ornament of sculpture, usually round, smgic, 
and hollow ; placed on a pedestal, or base, to decorate parts 
of gardens, tops of walls, of houses, &c. ; and sometimes 
to serve for ornament, instead of chimney-pots, which cer- 
tainly can boast of little beauty. Vases are often enriched 
with has relu'fs, and other embellishments. Vases are used 


V I G 187 

to adorn tombs, &c. in which case they have usually gar- 
lands, festoons, &c. flung over, or around them, and they 
are crowned as it were with flames, &c. All these are em- 
blems of ceremonies heretofore used in burying the dead. 
Vases are also derived in some of their kinds, from the 
drlnking-cups of antiquity : so that being appropriate both 
to the dead and the living, no wonder the use and adoption 
of them in ornament is pretty general. 

Vase, the body of a Corinthian capital, also an orna- 
ment used in architecture, &c. 

VAULT, an arched roof, the stones or materials of 
which are so placed as to support each other. 
' VICTORY, a female figure holding a trophy, or palm, Sec. 

VIGNETTES are litde ornamental engravings, placed at 
the beginnings of books, sections, chapters, Sec. (and then 
termed head-pieces), or at the close of similar divisions of 
a work (and then termed tail-pieces). They have, when 
neatly executed, an elegant effect. 

VIGOROUS Touch is an assured, determinate, certain 
laying on of the colours ; which, without being teased and 
scumbled about, produce the desired effect: it is the result 
of skill and facility, of promptitude and judgment. 

VIGOROUS Picture, is one wherein the lights are 
strong and bold, the shadows give a roundness to the objects, 
and where the natural opposition between the lights and 
shadows is well managed ; so that making a striking im- 
pression on the eye, its effect is nevertheless soft and agree- 

We must distinguish between a black or dark picture, 
and a vigorous one : the first is bad ; either occasioned by 
a bad choice, or bad breaking of colours, and is in a master 
a negligence_, but oftener the effect of inexperience, either 
in the mixture, or handling of colours. Many Flemish 

B B 2 painte;S 

i88 ~ V I R 

painters liave so far adopted a black manner, as to confound 
the objects in shade; and some Italians have been no less 
fond of brown : but nature is neither black nor brown, nor 
tlocs vigour arise from excess of such principles ; for even 
in a moonlight, the reflections and softened lights must be 
so managed, as to permit the contours of objects to be dis- 
tinct. The major part of those pictures of great masters 
v.hich arc obscured by the prevalence of brown, are thus 
injured, by the lapse of time, and we ought rather to give 
them credit for the harmony they once possessed, than to 
criticise loo severely their present appearances; for it is 
to be noted that oil tarnishes colours even on the palette, 
but much more in a course of years after a picture is finish- 
ed. A masterly hand, therefore, risques nothing in keep- 
ing his picture of a clear, bright, and vigorous tone; that 
when somewhat moderated by time (the only sense in 
which time can be said to improve a picture), the harmony 
and vigour may still be visible. 

V^IKGIN Subject, is a story not before treated by any 
painter or designer, &c. 

It would be infmitely better for artists, if, instead of tor- 
turing imagination in order to treat in a difl'ercnt manner 
subjects already hackneyed, they would draw' from' pure and 
cxhaustless sources, those striking and agreeable subjects 
which have not hitherto engaged the canvass; since, in 
multiplying such subjects, they increase variety, augment 
the solisfaction of the public, and give scope to technical 
abilities. The acquisition of virgin subjects can be no 
tliluculty to liiose who possess the Bible, ancient history, 
the poets, and productions of the British muse. 

VIKUJN 'I'jNT is that which is first of all laid on the 
clolh ; the nearer it approaches to the just tone of the 


IncTIONAKY of AKT. J>ii:l»p. 


UNI 189 

finished picture, the greater advantages It furnishes the artist 
in his progress towards finishing. 

VIRTUOSO is an Itahan term, now naturalized among 
us, importing a person who has made the arts his study, 
and who has attained a competent knowledge of their rules, 
their practice, and their principal productions and requisites 
in their various branches. 

VOLUTE, the scroll or spiral horn, used io Ionic and 
Composite capitals. 


Understood, is spoken of a subject, in which the 
rules of art are well, or ill observed. IVell understocd^ is a 
commendation of that part of the art employed on a sub- 
ject to which it is applied : whether it be design, expression, 
colouring;, &c. the part praised is conducted in a masterly, 
ingenious, and natural manner : and the author of it ap- 
pears to have well understood the principles of the art, which 
he has mr.nifested by his judicious execution and arrange- 
ment, or effect. 

UNION expresses the relation of parts to their whole : 
it is in general the harmony which results from the judi- 
cious management of the principles of art, proportion, 
colouring, &c. whereby each object has its place, its 
force, and consequence, regulated and determined. For 
union of colours, breaking (which see) is of principal 
utility. For union of light and shadow, vide Chiaro 
oscuRO, Sec. Harshness is the great opponent of union : 
union forbids any sudden, unpleasant changes of light to 
dark, &c. 

UNITY. Fig. I. Represents a number of balls which 


I9« WAV 

the eye is supposed to look at direct ; in which case, those 
in the centre, and those only, would be distinct, clear, 
and forcible, the others becoming weaker as they recede 
from the centre ; the balls on the sides, though they do 
not diminish in form, yet they diminish in force. 

Fig. 2. Is to the same purpose, and corroborates the 
idea in Lecture I. 2d Series, the centre beam, or ray from 
the eye, being by far the strongest, and the lateral beams 
weakening according to their distance from the centre. 

The utility of this principle is to render the whole of a 
composition united, by introducing that management of 
forms and of force, which may adapt to each part its pro- 
per importance. 

UNITED is descriptive of pictures, wherein are applied 
in a happy manner, the principles of union ; wherein the 
whole seems to be done by the same artist, on the same 
principles, with the same palette, with equal pleasure, 
vigour of mind, and attention. 

URN is a funeral vase, supposed to contain the ashes of 
bodies which have been burnt, as in the davs of antiquity 
was the customary manner of disposing of their dead ; the 
allusion still continues, though the custom be no longer 


W ARMTII. \'idc Colouring. 

WAVING. In speaking of design, we say the outlines ot 
a figure should be flowing, waving, gliding, that they may 
not appear hard, starved, and stiff: they should rct^emble, 
says Fr.ESNOV, the free forms of a flame of fire ; but ia 
applying thirf principle to practice, wc should be vi.ry carc- 


W O R 191 

ful, that the outline does not by any inaccuracy of form 
produce an effect as if the bones were awry, or broken, or 
xicketty. Such outlines could not be truly graceful ; but 
if they could, grace would be ill purchased at such expense. 

WHOLE TOGETHER, is taken as expressive of the 
effect of the parts in producing a whole : and in this 
sense it is nearly equivalent to union : but it sometimes is 
also taken to mean, that although a piece may be in 
some respects deficient, or smaller errors may have crept 
in, yet upon the whole^, or take the whole together, it is 

WORKS are the productions of any particular master; 
as we say such an one's works, Sec. 

Great works are those performances which occupy 
extensive spaces in churches, halls, &c. : but sometimes 
the epithet great is applied to works, as significative of 
abundant merit. 

Works are often denoted by the mode in which they are 
executed, as works in mosaic, works in sculpture, finished 
works, large works, &c. These terms are sufHciently de- 
scriptive without explanation. 



Attitude. Plate i. Antinous. 

2. Apollo, &c. 

3. Peasants, &:c. 

4. Principles of 

These plates are explained under the arlicle Attitude, page 18. 

Camera Obscuka, p. 35, &c. 

Drapery, Plate i. No. i, 2, 3, from the Apollo, ex- 
plained under the article Drapenj, p. 99. 

Principles of, explained by an original drawing 

by Poussin, p. 100. 

Do. explained by two figures from Leonardo 

da Vinci, , p. loi. 

Grapes, bunch of, explained, p. 129. 

GRACE, principles of, as svgqcsied by Mr. Hogarth, 
with a plate. 

Though we cannot but maintain, that the general prin- 
ciples of grace arc by no means mathematical, y^et as un- 
doubtedly natural grace may be viewed the better for assist- 
ance and precept, from whatever quarter it is drawn, we 
have inserted some of tho^e examples uhich JNlr. Hogarth 
very ingeniously applies to the support of his main argu- 
ment in his '^ Analysis of Beauty." '["he lirst two rows upon 
the plate are stays; of which, A i oiTcnds the eye by its stiif- 
ness and contracted appearance, its lines being straight; the 
lines of A 2 have a little remove from this straightness ; 
which remove increases in A 3: this stay for form might lit 
many persons ; but A 4 is }ct more genteel and graceful ; 

J/^' HOGMiTJds rrmapn'sof GltiCE . 

Dictionary of ARr.j)a;iijj. 

PLATES. 193 

its lines being more winding and free: this winding Is in- 
creased in A 5, but in A 6 and A 7, is by excess so greatly 
removed from elegance, as to fit only a Wapping landlady. 

The fashion of stays, as of other parts of dress, varying 
from time to time, these instances must be taken only in 
their general principles : JNIr. Hogarth composed them in 

The different twists of the horns beneath, relate to the 
same idea; B i - is less curvated than B 2, which has a 
dotted line running up it (as has also B 3), which shews how 
easily excess may be introdirced. B 3 is not only a general 
curve of the whole figure, but is also twisted m its parts ; 
the windings of which attract and engage the eve to trace 
their progress. C shews the variety of lines in the form of 
a bell; the serpentine windings of the contours of the sides, 
contrasted by the regular oval of the mouth, the infinite va- 
riety generated by the serpentine lines of the sides, appears., 
m that no two parts of its body are in a diameter of equal 
dimensions, although the whole body is nearly equally large. 
D is the figure of a pine-apple, whose varied surface is 
still further varied, by the serpentine lines made bv the pips, 
by their regular decrease toward the top, and by the leaves 
at the bottom ; it may also be observed, that the pips are 
likewise varied in their forms fin nature), by projecting 
somewhat at their tops, and by small hollows, Ike. grooved 
in their surfaces. 

E, IS a straight horn, which is merely a cone, and which, 
if supposed bent into the same form as B 3, would acquire 
the same elegance, but is now contrasted by the serpentme 
hue which is carried around it, and shews its deficiency. 

^' i^ 2, 3, 8cc. are legs of chairs composed on the same 
principle as the stays, and proceeding from too straight to too 
crooked ; the medium i.- the most elegant. 

^''''' ^'^^^•7- f^^ " G exhibits 

194 PLATES. 

G exhibits simple lines nearly similar to F, and also pro- 
ceeding from straight to crooked. 

The result of the whole is — straight lines are stiff, poor, 
mean, and inelegant; lines too much bent are redundant, 
clumsy, bulging, and inconvenient ; in the medium, there- 
fore, we must seek for grace, which is equally removed from 
extremes; and which, by that very circumstance, is capable 
of being more accurately adapted to character and compo- 

PI. I. SKETCH, by the late Mr, Mortimer, being the 
original thoughts for a Bacchanalian subject, and from 
which he afterwards painted a picture. 

PI. II. Revised Sketches of the principal figures of the 
same subject, shewing the advance of improvements m 
character and expression, made by the painter in the pro- 
gress of his studies. 



Refers to Pliny's account of that event, noticed In the 
Introductory Lecture. 


The Arts arc represented as boys or genii, to signify that 
they are not yet arrived at maturity. Britannia accepts 
with satisfaction their various performances, supposed to be 
exhibited In the Roval Academy (seen intheback ground), 
and, by rewarding, excites them to superior excellence. 


Before the invention of paper, many ways were contrived 



])I('TI{)\A1;Y. rii-eif)4. 


SKETCH /Toni Jlorlinwr. 77 // 

PLATES. 195 

to procure those advantages which now we receive from that 
commodity, for parchment was much too dear in price to 
permit the use of it on ordinary occasions. The ancients 
generally used tablets of wood waxed over ; therefore, what- 
ever was inserted upon them might easily be defaced : on 
these they wrote with an iron instrument or pen, called a 
style ; and on such tablets, Pliny informs us, that Alex- 
ander the Great ordered all the young officers in his army 
to learn to draw or design. This explains the attitude of th* 
figure which refers to that circumstance. The object he is 
drawing from, is the celebrated antique back of an Hercules 
reposing, usually called the Torso, in which Michael 
Angelo Buonarotti declared he had discovered all the 
principles of his art, and which he regarded as an exquisite 
production : his opinion has rendered this piece of antiquity 
so celebrated, that it has ever since been universally admired. 
It IS but justice to such exalted talents as command uni- 
versal applause by a single specimen, to repeat the name of 
the artist ; which fortunately yet remains in the inscription, 
from which it appears to be the work of At'OLLONius 
Nestor, an Athenian, 


Colouring is represented by a figure attentively inspecting 
a rainbow, with design to imitate its tints on a picture she 
supports : the utensils of this study, the pencils, pallette, co- 
lours, &c. are lying by her on the ground. 

Among ail the productions or effects of Nature, none is 
so brilliant and striking as the rainbow; which exhibits 
not only the most lively colours, but their most harmonious 
disposition and effect. Without offending-the eye by glare, it 
is sufficiently distinct J without confusion, it is intimately 
c c 2 blended. 

196 PLATES. 

blended, and softened : at the same time that Its simple and 
noble arch impresses the spectator with a forcible idea of 
greatness. The peacock exhibits, in the decoration of 
many of his feathers, that vivacity and splendour of colours 
which justly entitles him to a place in this representation. 

In the emblem of colouring placed in the ceiling of the 
council-room of the Royal Academy, painted by Angelica 
K.\UFFMAN, she has represented the figure as dipping her 
pencil in the rainbow; but when we consider that the rain- 
bouf is merely an illusion of sight, and no real object, this 
idea seems rather hyperbolical ; not to insist that, from the 
inevitable ambiguity of these kinds of subjects, the figure 
may be thought as well to be imparting colour to the rain- 
bow, as bprrowing from it, 


The same passion as gave rise to the origin of Painting, 
is said to bave been the parent of Sculpture. A young 
woman, daughter to a potter, having endeavoured to model 
some of the clay on which her father was at work, into a 
likeness of her lover, gave occasion to those more expert in 
the art of design, to produce the same effect on the more 
durable materials of marble and stone. Without vouching 
for the truth of these relations, we shall only repeat the re- 
mark, that it was prettilv imagined, to make the most 
amiable passion the parent of the most agreeable studies. 

The figure of Sculpture holds in her hand a mallet, be- 
ing one of the principal utensils in that profession ; she 
kans on a block, w hich appears decorated by a bas-relief: 
the busto, the level, 8cc. accompany and distinguish her. 

If the size of this composition had permitted, it would 
liavc been proper to have introduced some of those match- 
less performances which time has not destroyed; but as our 



PLATES. 197 

size forbids tliisj they arc better omitted than inserted by 

Whatever comparisons may be drawn between the merit 
of the ancients and moderns in other branches of the arts, 
they are allowed to be our superiors in sculi^turf, ; the 
Antinous, the Apollo, the Laocoon, arc unrivalled per- 
formances, and probably will ever continue insuperable ex- 
amples of art. 


Is represented by a figure sitting in the midst of a circus, 
composed of various edifices in different stages of forward- 
ness ; she holds in one hand a plan of sundry buildings, in 
the other a pair of compasses. As the column is a princi- 
pal ingredient in Architectural Composition, that, together 
with her sitting posture, expresses stability. The plumb- 
line, the ruler, &c. being implements used in the art, need 
no explanation. 


Peace is represented here, under the figure of a yountr 
woman in handsome attire, sitting, and holding in her hand 
an olive-branch, with berries on it: at a distance the im- 
plements of war consuming on the altar of Peace. 

This subject scarce needs any further explanation. The 
olive being one of the noblest productions of the earth, and 
which cannot come to maturity, if molested by the insuhs 
and horrors of war, is witli evident propriety introduced with 
a figure of Peace. Not the victorious laurel, or the tri- 
umphant palm, but the fat, tlie fruitful olive. 

Peace seems to be rather a passive, than an active qua- 
lity : we have therefore placed her in a quiet and sedentary 
attitude ; not as she often is introduced, herself employed in 
burning the destroying sv.ord, or the bloodv spear. 


198 PLATES. 


The story of the Cornucopia is so well known, that a 
repetition of it is unnecessary: as an attribute of Plenty it 
holds a principal place ; it appears filled with those produc- 
tions which are held in the greatest esteem by mankind in 
general, as well for their utility as importance. Since hu- 
man life is supported by the fruits of the earth, and " kings 
themselves are served by the field," an abundance of those 
fruits is not only desirable, but necessary. Should any in- 
quire by what means they are attained ? we reply, Not by 
sloth and idleness, by wishes and desires, but by the well- 
<lirected efforts of persevering diligence, by the indefatigable 
labours of industry (hinted by the bee-hive), to whom Plen- 
ty unveils herself without reserve, and to whom her pro- 
ductions are freely offered. 

Should the sentiment expressed by this design be justly 
felt by the younger part of our readers, they may eventually 
have reason to remember with pleasure the subject which 
taught them this useful lesson. 


Very different from the foregoing figures is that of War. 
Instead of the complacent countenance and beneficent do- 
nations' of the former subjects, this deals around destruc- 
tion ; delights in the ruined battlement, the falling tower, 
the wall breached by force, and the explosion of the most 
solid buildings from their very foundations. Ferocious in 
disposition, barbarous in character, he spreads devastation 
wherever his power extends : he grasps in his left hand 
, double torches, the signs of conflagration and terror; in the 
right hand he brandishes the unrelenting poiijTiard, which 
strikes not only those who resist him, but too often thesup- 



. ) 

' //.^z.: : 



^ w^rM//. 

PLATES. 199 

liant and defenceless : and the fury of his action manifests 
a mind cruel by disposition ; by habit and occupation, re- 
morseless, sanguinary, and inexorable. 


Is " the medium between fear and certainty ;" we have 
therefore represented her as looking forward with expecta- 
tion; at the same time she supports her head with her 
hand, expressing a kind of pensiveness and hesitation. The 
anchor being the nope of a ship, is usually introduced into 
this emblem, and appears to be a principal support of this 


Is a proper companion to Hope, and in the character of 
an angel, is exciting her attention and confidence towards 
Heaven, expressing, that from thence assistance and protec- 
tion may be expected. To this figure may be justly adapted 
the lines of Dr. Parnell : 

confess the Almighty just, 
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. 


In order to procure that variety which is a principal 
fource of pleasure in the arts, and of whfch they boast as a 
distinguished peculium, almost confined to themselves, we 
offer representations of the senses under the character of 
Boys. Perhaps in conformity to this idea, there may be a 
propriety in supposing that our bodily senses are not enjoyed 
by us in perfection. Tasting is surely much debauched by 
the contradictory variety presented to it; in m.anv kmds of 
animals, this faculty seems much more exact: and the same 
observations are true of the other senses. 

Under the idea of a boy indulging himself in the enjoy- 
ment of fruits of must exquisite flavour, we represent Tast- 

20O PLATi:S. 

iNG. The grape, the fig, the date, the water- melon, are a 
specimen ut the copious stores provided by nature to satisfy 
this sense. Not to one region or climate is thi? bounty con- 
fined : every country produces for the support of human life> 
and for the gratification of Tasting, that which appears to 
its inhabitants most agreeable and sakitarv. 

Happy Britain \ to wiiom if nature has denied the most 
poignant fruits, she has likewise forbidden the most fatal, 
but, whose commerce supplies even the productions of the 
tropics ; whose skill raises even the pine-apple I 


Is expressed by a boy playing on a guitar, to whose me- 
lodious tones he is listening: with earnest attention. 


As none among the productions of nature are so cheer-^ 
ing, reviving, and fragrant to the sense of smelling as 
flowers, which seem created on purpose to regale this fa- 
culty, we have represented a boy enraptured with the per- 
fume lie inhales from the scented bouquet; which is evi- 
dently the most natural attraction of this sense. 


Is represented by a boy looking at himself in a mirror; 
and as the operations of this facuhv have been immensely 
extended by the discovery and use of the telescope, he holds 
that instrument in his hand. ■ 


Is rr?presented bv a bov. whose easier orasp in seizin2;a bee 

1 . . CD O 1 O 

has subjected him to the insect's sting ; the smart arising 
from which has obliged l)im to liberate his prisoner. 


Thi? part of day is represciitcd rising over t!ie e.irtli, willi 
th<i t.irii(,st bccims of the Sun: ilic ligure is supposed Hying. 







PLATES. 101 

very high in the air, and therefore being viewed from lelow, 
is seen entirely underneath : the light also conies on the 
figure from lelow, the solar rays darting upwards. It is 
proper to remark, that this would be an injudicious repre- 
sentation, if the globe of the earth were introduced j be- 
cause, as we have elsewhere shewn, rays from the celestial 
luminaries never rke on the earth, but are either descending 
or parallel ; the horizon intercepting them, when the Sun 
declines below it: but, as here nothing is introduced 
whereby to determine the distance of this figure above the 
earth, the spectator may suppose it extremely high indeed, 
and then the liberty is not oifenslve. The fragrance of 
Morning is signified by the flowers which she strews as 
she advances ; and the congelation of the vapours into dew, 
by the vase from which it falls. Her head is also dressed 
with flowers, significative of the pleasures of Morning. 


Is represented under the idea of Apollo, as the God 
of Dayj arrived at the highest point in his course (the me- 
ridian), and rather inclining downwards, than urging his 
coursers to further ascent. This Idea is very frequent 
amonff the Poets, whose licence we have here followed. 

Is a single figure turning from the spectator, and seeming 
to recede gradually frorn him. She is supposed to be draw- 
ing a veil of mists and vapours, which arise from the earth, 
over the adjacent country 5 thereby obscuring and conceal- 
ing it. 

Now fades the gUirmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds : 

The sky is serene; the Bat is a creature which flies prin- 
DiCT. Edit. 7. DO cipally 

io2 PLATES. ^ 

cipally at twilight, and follows Evening: the Evening Star 
needs no lexplanation. 


Is allegorized by a figure warmly clothed; on her head 
a radiant crescent, whose form being yet very imperfect, 
iflTords little light, and its rays are few and dim : the veil 
of the figure is embellished with numerous stars; allusive 
to the host of heaven. Night being the most proper season 
for repose, she is represented with her finger laid on her 
lips, indicating silence ; she seems also watching the sleep- 
ing child, whose balmy slumbers she is unwilling to dis- 
turb. The narcotic effects of the Poppy are well known; 
this plant was constantly used by the ancients to express 
the repose of peaceful slumber. 


Represents a figure of Genius, holding in one hand a 
laurel wreath, as the reward of excellence, with the other 
pointed to a variety of implements used in the arts of Design : 
the port- folio in Drawing; the pallette and pencils in Paint- 
ing; the pillar signifies Architecture ; the points, &c. En- 
graving, and the books, the theory of these sciences. 


Genii, employed in exercising the sister arts of Painting 
and Sculpture. 


The applause and commemoration attendant on the suc- 
cessful efforts of the arts of design, indicated by the laurel 
crown and the records of history. 


Genius studying Natuhh. 

These Frontispieces and Vignettes illustrate the Article 





1 HE origin of most arts, and perhaps of most profes- 
sions,is attended with so much uncertainty and indecision, 
with so much obscurity and silence, that correct infor- 
mation on the subject of any particular art is at this time 
hardly to be expected. When the happy idea first oc- 
curred, when the happy effect was first produced, were 
circumstances favourable to the discovery? Was its 
worth acknowledged, and felt ? Did the person who 
actually conceived it, conceive also its future progress 
and importance ? Did those who might observe it, im- 
part their observations, and were such observations ac- 
curate and liberal, or false and iiwidious ? Were they 
treasured up among facts, transmitted to inform pos- 
terity, or scattered amid the floating rumours of the 
current moment? Such are the questions of inqui- 
sitive minds: questions easily asked, but not easily an- 

There is reason to conceive the elegant arts have ex- 
perienced various fates : proportionate to the urgency 
of present necessity was the importance of that inven- 
tion which supplied its demands. The most dextrous 
contrivance of a wattled structure, the most ingenious 

Vol. IV. B part 2 mode 


mode of strongly fencing the opening of a cave, or of 
bendins: the stubborn branches into a circumference 
connected with the earth, were talents of such value 
among nations who thus constructed their dwellings, 
that doubtless their possessors were celebrated, admired, 
and imitated. The perpetual recurrence of these wants 
made every improvement of consequence ; and till the 
mode of construction had become equal to the desired 
degree of convenience, every improvement was likely 
to be popular. Necessity, then, was the parent of ex- 
ertion : of exertion of body — as labour and skill were 
requisite to accomplish the incumbent task with solidi- 
ty and dispatch : exertion of mind — as without contriv- 
ance, plan, and adaption, labour would never render 
the intended residence convenient and habitable. 

These hints imply, that the arts now esteemed elegant, 
were not suggested by the prospect of attaining some 
future good, but w'ere exercised by the desire of obvi- 
ating some present evil; they vrere not at first directed 
to the acquisition of pleasure, but to the prevention of 
pain; they were not excited by expected enjoyment, 
but were impelled by actual uneasiness. Fear, not 
hope, dread, not delight, first roused the human mind 
to what eventually has afforded enjoyment and satisfac- 
tion, splendour and magnificence ; to what has aug- 
mented the talents of that mind, extended its concep- 
tions, and ennobled its powers. 

In vain, therefore, is research after the origin of art : 
it is contemporary with the wants of life ; previous to 
those wants, art was not; with their commencement it 
commenced ; whatever were the first necessities of man- 
kind, they directed the first application of art : but as 
art arises from mental powers, its application did not 
cease with the provision it afforded against those ob- 
jects ; a principle was called into action which was not 



o be satisfied with merely equipoising convenience and 
inconvenience, but which studied further improvement, 
sought novelty and variety, indulged genius and fancy; 
and which, after a v.hile, prided itself in discrimina- 
tion and choice, in judgment and taste, in propriety 
and elegance. 

Nevertheless, though we cannot now relate the abso- 
lute origin of art, observation may sufficiently supply the 
vacancy, and trace its probable course. For, being 
similar in principle, Vv^hy not also similar in progress, to 
what passes under our inspection ? Being adapted to 
certain states of life, why not also correspondent to 
what among mankind in such states it appears at this 
time ? The rude efforts of the untaught mind may in- 
dicate what might be the first essays of primitive genius. 
The feeble conceptions of childhood when it compounds 
water and clay, and mingles the moistened earth into 
a wall, is the first dawn of Architecture ; the fancy that 
sees figures in the fire, or the likeness of some acquaint- 
ance in the accidental form of a hooked stick, is the 
nidus of Sculpture ; and Sculpture it becomes, if the 
knife be employed to pare into more exact likeness the 
projection that represents the nose, or to liberate the 
appended chin from some supposed deformity, or un- 
couth mis-resemblance. AVhen a boy chalks on a wall 
the figure of a beast, or bird, or (if his turn be historic) 
the figure of his companion in some noticeable attitude, 
or event, is not this the origin of Design ? nay, of Com- 
position, and of Caricatura ? — though the lines be dis- 
proportionate, though a great round crowded by two 
immense eyes, which squeeze the .nose and mouth to 
the very bottom of the circle, surrounded by half a 
dozen strait strokes on each side to represent hair, while 
the body is denoted by double lines, and the arms and 
legs by single lines — though such be the whole form — 

B 2 yet 


yet here is the origin of Picture ; here is a mental ex- 
ertion which, proper!) directed, shall flourisli into art. 
This is an imitation by memory j but bring into view 
the object represented, let the eye see at one glance the 
original and the copy, then the likeness increases, a por- 
tion of incorrectness is dismissed, what was too long is 
shortened, or what was too short is lengthened ; this is 
study; and study continued is the parent of excellence. 
Moreover, various parts of the world, even in the 
present day, furnish various states of life : hordes of men 
in all imaginable degrees of distance from what was 
their first situation and manners ; whether we suppose 
civilized life to have been that first situation, and them- 
selves to have declined from it, down to almost bruta- 
lity ; or whether we conclude the rude attachment of 
savage society to have been that first situation, and ci- 
vilized life to have arisen after numberless improve- 
ments, and progressive cultivation. 

The more liberal Nature has been to man, the less 
active is his disposition ; the more she has done for him 
the less he will do for himself; content is sloth, activity 
is the effect of stimulus; when a cave affords advvelling, 
what need of an arched roof ? when a few stakes be- 
come an habitation, wherefore a colonade ? But in a le- 
vel country, which is destitute of caves, the dwelling 
must be an erection ; in a rigorous climate, the habi- 
tation must be substantial ; where ferocious animals are 
unknown, to surround the inclosure by a hedge of 
thorns may be superfluous ; but v^here they abound, 
every defence is indispensable. 

Let us endeavour^then to trace the progress of Archi- 
tecture, (the first of the arts) as instanced at present 
among the tribes of mankind. What was originally the 
dwelling of man ? Much might be offered in support 
of the idea that the palace of man was the verdant 




grove, and his residence was beneath the spreading 
shade of some tall tree ; equally distant from the con- 
finement of the gloomy cavern amid mountain-preci- 
pices, and from perpetual exposure to the vehement 
heats of the sandy desart, his bowser was — 

Chosen by the Sovereign Planter when he framed 

All things to man's delightful use, the roof 

Of thickest covert was inwoven shade : 

Laurel and mvrtle, and what higher grew 

Of lirra and fragrant leaf; on either side 

Acantiius, and each odorous bushy shrub 

Fenced up the verdant wall ; each beauteous flow'r, 

Iris all hues, roses and jessamine, 

Hear'd high their fiourish'd heads between, and wrought 

^Mosaic : underfoot the violet, 

Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay 

Broider'd the ground, more coloui'Vl than with stone 

Of costhest emblem : — 

The luxuriance of this description, is, indeed, not now 
to be instanced ; (alas ! circumstances are but too much 
changed for the worse) we cannot now allude to Eden; 
but must describe, as dwelling under trees, a few mi- 
serable tribes of African filumgalla, who when spring 
shoots into vegetation the forests around them, bend 
the branches, insert them into the earth, and reside un- 
der the leafy shelter, compelled, when the wintry tor- 
rent swells, to quit these abodes for the caves of Ethi- 
opian mountains ; or a few lr\(X\zn faquirs, and enthu- 
siasts, who forsaking the society of men, retire to the 
woods, and pass their cheerless hours exposed to the 
attacks of blood-thirsty tigers. Neither can we justly 
represent any considerable proportion of mankind as 
dwellers in caves (TroglodyUc) for, though a few de- 
pend thus entirely on Nature for habitations, yet, in ge- 


neral, some kind of industry has been employed to ren- 
der them less inconvenient. 

The permanence of a cave has none of that variety 
which is sought by man, and supplies but few of those 
necessities which daily beset himj caves are rarely situat- 
ed among forests, where his hunger procures food, or 
by the river side, where the stream slakes his thirst ; if 
he has domesticated any animals, caves are unfit for 
them, and ill adapted to accommodate at once both the 
master and his property. Banished trom his arbour and 
from his cave, his next step in architecture is to construct 
a tent, or a hut ; these, easily set up, easily taken down, 
easily carried from place to place, have long been fa- 
vourite among great part of mankind ; used to these, 
they despise other accommodations, and stigmatise as 
contemptible the inhabitants of cities. Nay, so far has 
this prejudice carried them, that forgetting the bonds of 
humanity, many battles have been tought, and much 
blood has been shed on its account : nor are its effects 
destroyed even now, the Arabs of the desarts as well 
those of Asia as of Africa, though honest among them- 
selves, plunder those stranger-travellers they can over- 
power; and though at peace with their fellow dwellers 
in tents, hate other tribes attached to one spot, and en- 
circled by one common wall. 

We reckon among those who prefer tents, the Arabs, 
the Tartars, many Cossacs, and other Asiatic tribes. 
Among those who prefer huts, the Hottentots, the 
Negroes, and sundry other African nations : the Ame- 
rican Indians, and many inhabitants of tropical cli- 
mates. Huts below the surface of the ground are used 
in many parts of the polar regions, as the best security 
against intense cold. 

Among the Rabbins some have said, that what we 
render 'coats of skins,' Genesis ch. xi. ver. 2] . should be 



rather considered as * tents, or tent-coverings of skins ;' 
this may be uncertain : but certain it is, that the simpli- 
city of those erections where a few poles covered by 
skins, or by cloth, composed the whole structure, render- 
ed them highly useful, as tliey were extremely well 
suited to the wants and abilities of their inhabitants ; 
whether meant as permanent, or as tents removeable at 
pleasure. We consider immoveable huts as cottages ; 
and these being fixed, were required to possess advan- 
tages over those not fixed : for, as they admitted of 
enlarged dimensions, and they were not to be carried 
about, no consideration of incumbrance attached to 
them ; if composed of numerous pieces, or if bedecked 
by superfluous ornament, it increased not the labour of 
package, nor the load of the camel or the ox. These 
edifices required in their construction various implements 
not used in tent-making ; and in supplying these, inven- 
tion made considerable advances tovv^ard perfecting 
others. The remark seems just, that dwellers in tents 
have been little inventive, little famed for science ; cities 
have ever been the nurses of arts, of study, and of emu- 
lation. For it deserves notice, that no art is so entirely 
singular as to reach perfection while alone ; usually, im- 
provements in more than one are contemporary, and 
usually they yield mutual light and mutual assistance. 

The progress I have described appears so evidently 
to be natural, that it may rationally be applied to all 
ages ot the world ; even before the flood the same was 
probably its course. Cain first built a city; no doubt 
intended for protection, though possibly no better than 
a composition of mud w^alls and rushes, rather marking 
than concealing the trembling vagabond. Cain how- 
ever built a city -, and in the line of Cain we read of the 
earliest sciences, and their progress: first husbandry and 
pastoral property, then m.usic, then workmanship in 



metals. Did the leisure of husbandry require intervals of 
joy? — music afforded expressions of that joy ; but vocal 
music was imperiect without instrumental, and to fur- 
nish this required the skill of the artificer in brass and 
iron. " Jabal," says Moses, "was the father of sucli 
as dwell in tents and have — cattle'' — says our translation: 
but the Syriac reads it — ^'possessions.'' — Probably, all 
property hitherto was public; but as personal property is 
what most nearly affects us, perhaps from the institution 
of private property may be dated the first considerable 
advancement of art; and it should appear evident, that 
such advancement was greatly promoted by distinct 
professions being undertaken by distinct families. 

I confess, in my opinion, the antediluvians had little 
occasion for very extensive study of the science of Ar- 
chitecture : the seasons, I conceive, were by no means so 
rigorous and so dissimilar as now; the earth being more 
temperate,was also more fertile : man had no need to pro- 
vide against^jr^rt-w^f/y inclement skies, or aimual torrents, 
against rigid frosts, or ardent suns. The productions of the 
earth being more abundant, and more constant, consider- 
able repositories of stores [i.e. granaries) were probably 
unknown; nor did Avarice itself perhaps tliink of accu- 
mulating unwieldy hoards, for distant consumption.Their 
constructions, we may suppose, if they were extensive, 
were not solid, and if capacious were not durable. Does 
not this seem inferable from the very particular directions 
given to Noah respecting the construction of the ark : 
He is not only told of what wood to make it, but 
its particular dimensions, form, and divisions, " rooms, 
or cabins, shalt thou make in the ark, a window, a 
door, and lower, second, and third stories." Does not 
this precision look as if the invention, or application at 
least, was novel? Every thing announces the first ship ; 
but perhaps also by much the most considerable struc- 


ture yet undertaken ; to complete which required up- 
wards of a century. 

The deluge, which changed considerably the face of 
the earth, most probably changed its temperature ; and 
perhaps, also, the deluge was the first continued rain 
which fell, and not less astonishing to the sufferers than 
if it had been fire instead of water. How then was the 
earth refreshed? By copious dews. Those parts at 
present watered by dews, are not the least fertile ; and 
certainly they might afford moisture sufficient to the 
earth in full vigour, and the heat of the sun moderate, 
uniform, and equal. To this hypothesis agrees the ex- 
treme length of human life, not then affected by atmos- 
pherical vicissitudes; and, in my opinion, the phenome- 
non of the rain-bow: for if no rain, no dense compact- 
ed clouds; if no clouds, no rain-bow, the rain-bow be- 
ing the offspring of clouds: this pacific token originat- 
ing after the waters of the flood. 

The foundation of Babel is thought to date about one 
hundred years after the deluge : it could not be till men 
were multiplied, and were pretty secure of subsistance, 
nor till after many erections, and of various sorts. So 
great an undertaking, as to build a city and a tower 
that might be, as it were, a metropolis, central to all 
mankind, and be kept in memory even by those scat- 
tered abroad on the face of the whole earth, could not be 
thought of, till after many lesser edifices had furnished 
experience in the art of building. Whether the tower 
of Babel was designed " to reach to heaven," or was 
to be consecrated " to idolatrous worship of the hea- 
venly bodies," has been doubted : that Idolatry soon 
commenced its detestable career, seems probable from 
the name of the city " Ur," (or burning) of the Chal- 
dees, fire being long the chief idol among the Parsee, 
and whose worship yet subsists in certain parts of Asia. 

Vol. IV. Cpart 2 Obser\-e3 


Observe, the materials of the tower of Babel were, not 
stone, but thoroughly burnt brick, and bitumen for ce- 
ment; which implies a knowledge that unburnt brick 
was perishable ; and bricks proportionately large as the 
stones employed in some buildings, without cement, 
would have been unwieldy, even if they were not 
crushed by the weight they were intended to support. 
[Probably stones dug from tlie quarry were not yet 
used in building.] Was that the original tower of 
Babel which Herodotus saw? and in its orginal con- 
dition r of which he has left us an account : or had it 
been so repaired, and enlarged, (by Nebuchadnessar 
perhaps) that it was now rather a Babylonish and na- 
tional structure, than, that designed by the united efforts 
of the whole earth when of one language, ^nd of one 

Such an undertaking as that of the tower of Babel 
must have been long held in remembrance by the fa- 
niilies of the dispersion ; and ideas correspondent to 
the state of architecture at the time, must undoubtedly 
have been carried with them to all parts, lliat many 
branches had previously separated from the primitive 
stock, is extremely supposable ; but by this general dis- 
persion, the portion of knowledge possessed by each fa-r 
mily remained witli itselt, and instead of liaving recourse 
for assistance, when in difficulties, to an original source, 
as former colonies might, it was oblige^ to supply its 
own wants, jnd those ot others its descendants, accord- 
ing to its own restricted abilities. 

Those families which in this general quarrel and mis- 
understanding were most numerous, had the greatest 
advantages toward soon becoming settled in the parts 
they occupied : those families which were weakest, were 
probably driven by the stronger, to the less fertile pas- 
tures, and the less iavourable soils. In the strongest 



communities the principles of art were considerable 
suftVrers ; in the weaker they became almost extinct : 
but even in the weaker would remain some trace of 
what they had seen, some recollection of the weii-built 
city, of the spacious street, of the cloud-topp'd temple ; 
and, gradually, as opportunity offered, would efforts be 
directed toward the acquisition of such enjoyments". 
Few would occupy the cave which had first given them 
shelter, when by means of tents, or of huts, they might 
maintain intercourse with their companions, their 
friends, or their posterity : they would prefer social 
life to solitary ; they might proceed to construct adja- 
cent habitations, or to colonize some spot, in imitation 
of their once admired Babel. 

To render this more sensible, let us trace in our ima- 
gination, a small society, parting, whether by choice or 
compulsion, from the tribe to which they belonged, and 
wandering in quest of a distant settlement. Imagine 
the vigorous and heroic husband, attended by the no 
less heroic and constant partner of his bosom : if to these 
you add the prattling offspring, you increase the anxi- 
eties of the expedition Arrived in an unknown part, 
the setting sun commands retirement j to remain ex- 
posed is dangerous : and how shall the weaker female, 
and the tender youth, scale the stately tree, and lodge 
among the branches? Where then shall they find se- 
curity r — In the nearest excavation of the ground, or 
perhaps in the fissure of a rock. Let them first see 
that no savage quadruped harbours there, that no hiss- 
ing serpent has made it his retreat j let them explore 
their dwelling, and then fence it. The forest yields 
its pliant twigs, and the trees their wattling branches, 
and thus they compose a habitation : this shelters them 
from the summer's sun, from the winter's deluge and 
frost ; and this becomes their abode. 

C 2 Increasing 


Increasing posterity increases strength, and mutual 
assistance procures additional convenienciesj till, by de- 
grees, the father of the family becomes founder of a 
town, and erects the standards of his dwelling : not now 
from the first branches which offer, but he selects the 
straightest trees, and explores the recesses of the woods : 
not now in the first spot that offers ; but he consults the 
union of accommodation with security, and the bene- 
fits of a copious stream with those of a fertile soil. The 
sturdy youth obey the counsels of age, their unremit- 
ting industry at length attains its purposes, and they 
congratulate themselves on having vanquished their dif- 
ficulties and deposited the uprights ; these support the 
beams of the roof; the interstices they fill with the 
smaller boughs, and plaster with tenacious clay. Thus 
mankind still are beholden to the tree for a dwelling, 
and of a tree form their habitation. AVho would sup- 
pose this the origin of extensive cities, and of royal pa- 
laces ? Yet such was the commencement of Nineveh, 
of Babylon, of Rome ; and to some such beginning is 
our opulent metropolis indebted for its existence. 

The progress of Art is like that of the scarce noticed 
fountain, which silently glides along the banks a humble 
water-course ; by degrees it becomes a brook, and in- 
creases to a rivulet ; capable now of utility, it rises into 
consequence, spreads into a rapid river, diffuses conve- 
nience and wealth around its banks, and receives a 
thousand blessings as it rolls to the ocean. 

But, though we have hitherto attended chiefly to the 
natural and the civil wants of man, we ought, in justice 
to their importance, to advert to his moral and his sa- 
cred wants also : let us recollect that the idea of solemn 
Avorship was extremely strong in those early times, that 
their periodical assemblies, as at the new moons, &c. 
Were very solicitously attended, that many of their rites 



were performed in public and general assemblies of the 
community, that they were also accompanied with pub- 
lic and general expressions of joy, and that the pomp 
and ritual of worship is congenial to the human heart. 

In fact, we have seen the proposed tower of Babel col- 
lect a city around it ; and however other cities may owe 
their origin to casualty, the magnificence of its sacred 
structure was the foundation of Babylon. Neither is 
this instance singular : there seems much justice in the 
ideas of Libanius in his oration " for the Temples'* 
before the Emperor Theodosius, A.D. 390. " Men" 
says he " having at first secured themselves in dens and in 
cottages, and having there experienced the protection 
of the gods, soon perceived how beneficial to mankind 
their favour must be ; they therefore, as may be sup- 
posed, erected to them temples and statues, such as they 
could in those early times : and when they began to 
build cities, upon the increase of arts and sciences, there 
were many temples on the sides of mountains, and in 
plains ; and in every city next after its walls, were erect- 
ed temples, and sacred edifices, as the beginning of the 
rest of the body." Again, " For, O Emperor, the 
temples are the soul of the country, they have been the 
first original of the builings in the country, and they 
have subsisted for many ages to this time." 

The expression " first original of the buildings," may 
express not only their being remains of early architec- 
ture -J but rather, that often a temple was the cause of 
a town, and this is true also of Dodona, and Delos, and 
of many other cities in ancient times : and in modern 
times, among others, of the now town of Loretto; 
which is merely an adjunct to the Santa Casa^ or holy 
house : in fact, that where there is a great resort of vi- 
sitors, conveniencies for their use should gradually be 
rrected, and that the profit attending them should at- 


tract many settlers, is apparently a rational origin of 

Previous to the general dispersion of mankind, their 
soil and situation, thvir manners and wants being alike, 
doubtless one general mode or style obtained among 
all: but when dispersed, unlimited diversity may be 
expected, — arising from their infinitely varied situa- 
tions,— their different talents and ingenuity, — their dif- 
ferent lemarks and observations on things around them. 
Let us pause here : — though we liave seen social and civil 
life, to be the primary state of man, yet we are arrived 
at a period wherein almost the whole race are divested 
of the advantages arising from tliat state. Those only 
who remained settled in the land of Shinar, could now 
be said to be in civil society. The more numerous bo- 
dies of exiles conducted by popular leaders, were less 
removed from that state, or degree, of civilization. 
Smaller bodies who followed less favourite chiefs, 
and especially, families whose numbers were weak, 
though perhaps obliged to wander farther than their 
compatriots in quest of settlements, these, being gra- 
dually divided and subdivided, were almost, or al- 
together, insulated from the rest of mankind ; they 
would soc^ncst ar.d most entirely forget those arts which 
once they beheld, if they did not cultivate, and now, se- 
dulously endeavouring to accommodate themselves to 
th.eir new situations, they would deviate furthest from 
the manners and refinements of their former state. 
Their first concern would naturally be subsistence; this 
the woods would furnish by the chase, or the streams 
by fishing ; this would often be precarious, and always 
toilsome, nor could it be intermitted, but whether 
successful or unsuccessful, would require perpetual ap- 
plication. Sustenance might occasionally be derived 
from roots, from herbage, from trees, but only occa- 


sionally. Suffering under uncertainties, yet hardened 
against distress ; improvident of the future, if in pre- 
sent supply; alternately active and idle, laborious and 
slothful, ingenious and stupid ; alternately roused to 
phrenzy or calmed to lethargy, straining every nerve, 
or seeming utterly nerveless, such is solitary man : 
wild as his native woods! savage as the precipices 
around his den ! attached to no spot, he adorns or cul- 
tivates none, receives from it but casual benefits, and 
bestows on it but casual glances : the noblest objects 
presented to his view by the very sublimities of na- 
ture, he passes unnoticed. Solely occupied by one sin- 
gle idea, he views the wide-expanded champaign — as 
it may afford him prey j the silver-lake — as it yields him 
prey; the majesty of the grove — as there his prey may 
hide ; rocks rising to heaven he scales in search of prey, 
or dives into glens, into chasms, into caverns, as direct- 
ed by his hopes, and expectations, or sustenance. In 
this state can art flourish ? shall he build to-day, who 
to-morrow may inhabit elsewhere ? shall weariness and 
fatigue, study ? or thoughtless inactivity, compose ? Or 
if some happy genius turn his reflections toward ame- 
lioration of his present condition, will he not rather 
think of providing necessaries than of devising arts ? 
how to domesticate the now wild cattle, or to preserve 
their offspring when chance has found, and pity 
spared them, that they may always be near at hand for 
service, how to render them more completely obedi- 
ent, and more uniformly tractable, or how to improve 
the product of the trees by cultivation, or to store it up 
for future use. Then arises some celestial-gifted Ceres, 
strews the precious grain, watches the rising stalks, ga- 
thers the ripened ears, and defies that scarcity which 
once made winter terrible ; the joys of harvest animate 
^11 minds, and invigorate all hands ; age visits the field, 



directs, and blesses; youth endeavours; infancy strives; 
the assembled community close their labours by offer- 
ing united praise to heaven, and the now settled inha- 
bitants gratefully applaud the teeming earth. After 
the harvest follows the vintage : the press succeeds the 
plough ; to Ceres and Triptolemus associate Minerva 
and Bacchus. For, if an idea be once started, it is the 
nature of man to pursue and improve it : if one seed 
has yielded food, thus encouraged, he will cultivate 
others; if one fruit be refreshing, he will endeavour to 
prolong its services, and will seek in others of similar 
properties, qualities capable, not only of present, but 
of future utility. 

But not every where is this the course of things; 
corn grows not every where ; animals, wild or do- 
mesticated, are the chief supports of many parts of 
the globe. The northern parts sow little : in Lap- 
land the rein-deer is their riches, yielding at once 
food and raiment. Among all the tribes of North- 
American Indians, few cultivate the land ; their hunt- 
ing grounds are their dependance : nor is South Ame- 
rica better cultivated by the natives, unless as directed 
by Europeans: the southern people of Africa, the Hot- 
tentots, neither plow nor sow ; the Caftrees almost as 
little ; these, by their situation, and by their ignorance, 
(in conformity to our general principle) seem to be the 
most remote wanderers from Babel, the most remote 
in their modes of life from the improvement of succes- 
sive invention, the most remote from the connected ad- 
vantages of political union. For it is probable upon 
the whole, that Noah, and his descendants, if they did 
not continue at Babel, or in its neighbourhood, after a 
while retired cast of Babylon, perhaps to Bactria or In- 
dia, where from the earliest ages has been the scat of 



rmpire and subordination, and inconsequence, the seat 
of invention, of magnificence, and of art. 

The human mind has resources capable of supporting 
it against most natural evils ; and often is capable of 
converting them into benefits : ^^4lere it cannot over- 
come them by effective resistance, it can divert their 
course or soften their consequences, can accustom it- 
self to circumstances till they become insensible, and by 
degrees reduce them to enjoyments. During the long 
and severe Avinters of the North, where for many 
months no solar ray reaches, where triumphs the in- 
tensity of frost, (the very idea thrills us with horror !) 
the natives, well clad in furs, milk their rein-deer or 
tend their traps, by moonlight ; their dwellings sunk 
deep in the earth admit no cold, their lamps yield light 
and fire, their stores of dried fish and of pine bark 
yield food, and \^hat conversation their single family 
affords, wears out winter: shall we seek elegance in such 
structures ? below the surface of the earth — no win- 
dow is possible — no arch required — no external decora- 
tion ; — and internal decoration is little to be expected, 
where no neighbour visits, and no parties are made. 

Little better are the structures of the Americans, or 
the Hottentots j they are indeed moveable huts, but by 
that very circumstance of small dimensions, and pro- 
portioned to the powers of those who are to move 
them ; compact even to filthiness, and ever full of 
smoke, — to mention style and architecture is degrad- 
ing the terms, — But then is taste totally banished from 
the mind thus situated ? and are the rudiments of art 
entirely obliterated ? No : the Indian of America paints 
for beauty, chooses the best part of the best fur for 
ornament, and strings his wampum in numberless pat- 
terns with consummate elegance; the Hottentot adorns 
his person with a calf-skin, adorns his calf-skin with 

Vol, IV. D part 2. beads. 


beads, and with brass, and studies seriously the effect 
he means to produce. Yet the seeds of elegance uni- 
formly shoot with most vigour in the female mind : 
the Indians are painted by their women j and the wo- 
men among the Hottentots, decorate their krosses 
with most invention, combination, and taste : they best 
know what colours most kindly assort together ; that 
neither black beads nor blue suit the delicacy of their 
divine complexions, while pearly white or tender rose 
colour, add graceful contrast to the brilliant vivacity 
of their native charms. 

Emerged from the cavern and from the deep-sunk 
dwelling, to the liberty of the moveable hut, we find 
art exerting itself in personal decorations ; adorning 
however, not the dwelling but the inhabitant, connect- 
ed with somewhat of tenderness and affection, combin- 
ed with a desire to appear to advantage in the eyes of 
others ; this desire most natural to the female sex, is 
in that sex supported by superior dexterity and skill, 
as well as indicated by superior elegance. Personal 
decoration for purposes of terror, is indeed attached to 
this state of lite ; and the Indian when hideously paint- 
ed to dismay his enemies, shews art ; and shews it too 
to a kind of advantage: and, I doubt not, were we 
spectators of its effects, it would often force our appro- 
bation of its principles, however we might regret their 
application : the well calculated and well disposed "gor- 
<rons and hydras and chimeras dire" would shock us 
into applause, and terrif}' us mto praise. But war not 
solely enttames the breast; love lights his fires, and 
sheds his influence too : now the heart softens, now 
t'ne tiLSte improves ; the principles of elegance unite, 
and every cllbrt is directed to the art of pleasing. 
Tl)e lover studies to appear agreeable in her eyes 
whom he admires, and neglects no means of display- 


ing at once his taste and his ardour. His imagination^ 
also, alive to its own powers, compares his beloved 
to the beauteous flovv-er, and he studies the most 
beauteous flower for comparison; or if he liken her 
to some favorite animal, that animal is the most 
charming of its kind ; his imagination depicts the most 
grateful verdure as adorning the pathway to her dwel- 
ling ; while her dwelling becomes a temple, and herself 
the divinity. Neither can he conceal his sensations ; 
his love inspires an interest, a vehemence, which kindles 
into poetry, and bursts into song. Poetry and song 
are effusions of the mind, which ruminating on its own 
ideas, cherishes or chases, selects or separates, concep- 
tions more or less relative to the subject : this implies 
comparison of one with others ; and such comparison 
is a very principal ingredient in the arts of design, if 
not absolutely their foundation. 

We have said, the Arts were greatly related to each 
other, and commonly received improvements nearly 
about the same time, but hitherto we have mentioned Ar- 
chitecture only ; the reason is, because hitherto we have 
not seen Architecture advanced to that degree of excel- 
lence as to support ornament ; but, directly as this 
branch of art had made a progress toward regularity, 
strength, and convenience, the next idea was embel- 
lishment i and this we find exemplified in the construc- 
tions of most of those islanders which have lately come 
to our knowledge. After Architecture, Sculpture seems 
to be next in order, which, employed on huge blocks 
of wood, creates the frightful form of some of their 
masks ; or patiently waiting its task's completion, de- 
corates with winding ornament the handle of a club, 
or the centre of abow. Assisted by Sculpture, the head- 
piece of a war-canoe may characteristically inspire ter- 
ror, seem ready to devour its opponents, or grin defi- 
le 2 ance 


ance on their despised threatenings. Character and ex- 
pression no doubt are beauties in art, and in these, ex- 
cessive efforts are easily seized, and in all their defor 
mity: hence the authors of such works have given vi- 
gour, spirit, and force to their productions, and have 
completed in them the very sublime of ugliness. Real 
beauty is dithcult to represent, but deformity has no dif- 
ficulty ; gliding grace is transitory, and fugitive, not 
easily seen, not easily cauglit, whereas grimace is noto- 
rious, obvious, and facile ot imitation. Such barbarous 
efforts of Art are lound among ail savage nations; and 
their natural effect is rather iright than respect, rather 
terror than affection. 

How far the above sentiment applies in respect to 
the images of their deities, we cannot at present as- 
certain ; that these are in general terrific is certain ; 
but to what degree, or with what design, their authors 
intended they should be so, we must reter to better in- 
formation. Were their sculptors incompetent to the 
mild resemblance of some placid deity ? Or, did their 
mythology furnish no placid deity to represent .? Or, 
did no occasion call for such representation } Or, 
those DOwers which related to death and destruction — 
were these only thouglit fit to be personified? Or did 
terror rather than love support such worshij)? These 
are questions whose answers at present are beyond our 
reach To return to ancient Art — 

Chronology is a very difiicult study; the most sa- 
gacious writers differ greatly from each other, and in 
Tcncral, freely confess that all their endeavours can ac- 
complish, is, rather aj-tproximation than accuracy, ra- 
ther probability than certainty. It will not bo wonder- 
ed at, therefore, that I propose my own sentiments 
with the utmost deference, and lay little stress on 
absolute precision of dates, as not very essential to a 



general idea of the progress of art. Yet I may remark, 
that, although the very early dates of certain persons 
and facts in some chronologies may perhaps need abate- 
ment, nevertheless, 1 cannot persuade myself the dis- 
covery or practice of several arts should be dated so low 
■as others have placed them. It seems to me incredi- 
ble, that the discovery of carpenter's tools is to be at- 
tributed to DedaluSy li Dcdalus be so late as supposed 
by Sir Isaac New ion; he might improve, or vary 
them, but not invent them at that period. Nor can I 
think that Tosortlius, or JEscidapius, a physician, was 
the first who invented building with square stones, not 
long before Sir Isaac's date of the Argonautic expe- 
dition. The same I suppose of his sentiments on Osi- 
ri.i and Isi's: \^ Scsostris was called Osiris^ he did but 
apply the ancient worship to his own person ; for, cer- 
tainly, the mysteries relating to those personages were 
of much older date. On the other hand, to place Se- 
soslris, as some have done, a thousand years earlier, 
is giving a proportionately earlier date to his works ; 
and what perhaps from their magnitude is scarce al- 
lowable; notwithstanding what may be said of the 
tovv^er or Babel : of which, it should be remembered, 
we have no description that may enable us to distin- 
guish its primary form from the subsequent additions 
of Nebuchadnessar. 

The earliest ages have naturally transmitted to us 
the fewest accounts of their manners and studies, be- 
ing absorbed in personal exertions to supply more im- 
mediate necessities ; and of those accounts which they, 
perhaps, designed to record for the information of pos- 
terity, war, time, and accident, have spared very few. 
The least disputable record is doubtless the sacred his- 
tory of the Jews; which, though it contain only inci- 
dental hints on our subject; yet is of importance, be- 


cause of a date prior to any other. Moreover it is, in 
a great degree, not the history of the Jews only, but of 
mankind, and it seems not improper to consider it in 
diat light, till other, subsequent, though early autho- 
rities afford their aid. 

Moses, as a writer, may be dated by the Exodus of 
Israel, ante A.D. 1491. We may, so far as concerns 
our subject, without offence, consider his works as en- 
abling us to guess at the state of arts in Egypt, and per- 
haps in Arabia, about his time. That his productions 
were greatly superior in some respects to those of 
Egypt, we may readily admit, but that in others they 
might be rather varied than superior, is no reflection 
on his abilities. It he had not the stone and marble of 
Egypt, he could not equal the Egyptian edifices in 
grandeur, or solidity, supposing him so inclined. All 
his efforts being directed to the establishment of ritual 
worship, and ceremonial services; herein, doubtless, he 
succeeded : — but all other hints, or relations, or histo* 
ries, that can any way afford light on the subject of 
art, are little short of foreign from his main design. 
Neither is it beyond a doubt, that we now receive his 
expressions, or understand his language, on these sub- 
jects, in the very sense wherein he meant them : when 
teraphwi were common, any reader understood the 
word ; now its precise import is not clear : neither was 
the hieroglyphic compound figure of the cherubim any 
difficulty at that time, though now not a little embar- 
rassing. This premised, I proceed to select those in- 
stances of Art which occur in his narration. 




We have seen reason to conclude that Babel was 
the seat of Art, as known when mankind united their 
grand efforts to perpetuate their fame : certainly they 
thought their degree of art considerable, and doubt- 
less supposed, by exerting all their powers combined, 
to ensure the applause of posterity. May we not pro- 
perly glance at what were the Arts of Babel ? We are 
certain, that beside Architecture, Astronomy was one 
of those arts ; this science cannot make any great pro- 
gress without the assistance of some sort of instruments 
for observation, of some kind of Geometry for delinea- 
tion, and of some kind of calculation, for determining 
by past observation the future revolutions of the hea- 
venly bodies ; to be obtained only by the use of Arith- 
metic. We may conceive of Nineveh as being the 
daughter of Babylon in all senses, and practising the 
same arts as the parent city. 

Geometry and Delineation bear strong reference to 
the Arts of Design, especially when combined with a 
knowledge of Architecture. It should seem also, that 
embroidery, or ornament analogous to it, was early cul- 
tivated in Babylon, as such a dress was found among 
the spoils of Jericho, and fatally allured Achan. Joshua 
ch. vii. ver. 21 . Here we might ask, was this woven, 
or wrought with the needle ? either way some kind of 
pattern was delineated ; but if this garment was not or- 
namented, then the manufacture of Babylon was in 
esteem; for some kind of beauty it certainly had to 
render it desirable. Long before this time, in the his- 
tory of Joseph, we read of a " coat of many colours,'* 
but whether ornamented by any pattern is not deter- 


mined. The sum that Abimelech gave Sarah (Gen. 
XX. ver. 16.) for a veil, appears to have been a great 
price, and was doubtless meant as a handsome present : 
** a thousand pieces of silver" would hardly be paid lor 
a veil, "a covering for the eyes," unless highly orna- 
mented, and probably finely embroidered. But whe- 
ther a Babylonish production, or not, does not appear; 
however, it proves the existence of such expensive 
taste, and that too in the land of Canaan ; a country 
less populous than Babylonia or Egypt, but lying in 
the passage from one to the other. 

We find no direct allusion to what may be supposed 
allied to the arts, after the mention of Ur of the Chal- 
dees, for a long period; nor is it positive thatTERAii, 
the father of Abraham, had been that gross idolator 
which the Jews affirm ; and from which they say he 
was coverted by the constancy of Abraham's zealous 
lefusal to worship idols, and his miraculous deliver- 
ance from the burning of the Chaldees : while Maran, 
his idolatrous brother, died before (i. e. was burnt in the 
presence of) his father. Nevertheless, it seems probable 
that Abraham was directed to sojourn in })arts less 
polluted by the crime of idolatry, and that hitherto Ba- 
bylon and Chaldea were the chief districts which had 
adopted it ; possibly after the example, or by the com- 
mand, of NiMROD, who is thought to have been the 
original Baal, and to have had, after his decease, idola- 
trous honours paid him, but whether by means of any 
representation, or figure, is uncertain. We find no hint 
of idolatry in Abraham's transactions in Canaan, in 
Egypt, with Abimelech or with Pharoah; from 
whence it seems likely that the idea of Egypt being the 
original' seat of idolatry, and having transmitted it to 
Babylon, is unfounded ; nor is idolatry mentioned as a 
sin ot the cities of the plain ; nor in the history of Isaac ; 



Bortlll Rachel, quitting Chaldea with her husband Ja- 
cob, is noticed as having stolen her father's teraphinii 
an interval of about 900 years. Of the nature, design, 
or form, of these teraphiin, we can but conjecture : that 
they were sacred (/. e. idolatrous'^ images [in the plu- 
ral] is certain; that they were not large, is also cer- 
tain; since otherwise Rachel could not have con- 
veyed them away without notice from Jacob, nor have 
concealed them under her without detection by Lab an. 
Of what matter were they, of metal, stone, or wood ? 
— probably of the latter ; especially, if Rachel had 
carried them about her person : and this agrees with 
the general accounts of historians, and the reason of 
things, that the earliest images were of wood. Ne- 
vertheless, we find afterwards, that Jacob had occa- 
sion to purge his household from strange gods (i. e. 
their images) which, together with their consecrated 
ear-rings, he buried under an oak near Shechem. 
Gen. XXXV. 

Carvings in wood seem to have the greatest claim to 
being the first sculptures: at the earliest periods they 
numbered among their votaries most of the nations 
east of Babylon. Were they received from Babylon 
after the time of Nimrod? or was the principle active 
even during the time of Noah's dwelling in those 
parts, so that when he journeyed east, as we suppose, 
some of his company carried this pollution with them ? 
Though we cannot depend implicitly on so much as is 
related of the ancient histories of the east (India, 
China, &;c.) yet perhaps we may, without much hazard 
of mistake, credit them so far as to believe their 
accounts of early ages, which represent their national 
worship as directed alone to the Creator, and the in- 
troduction of image worship as comparatively modern. 

Vol. IV. E part 2 and 


and as received from foreign countries, geographically- 
nearer to the scite of Babylon. 

The history of Jacob atfords another hint or two on 
the subject of sculpture ; as we find in that history the 
earliest mention of one of those customs which long 
continued, even after many improvements had been 
made on the original thought. After his vision at 
Bethel, Jacob set up as a pillar the stone he had used 
for a pillow, and consecrated it by pouring oil on the 
top of it. Again, after his reconciliation to Laban, 
when pursued by him, Jacob took a stone and set it 
up for a pillar; moreover, a heap (perhaps rather a 
circle around a central one) of stones was gathered, 
and a festival, as customary, concluded the solemnity. 
This is the most ancient account we have of conse- 
crated stones, (Bethulia), and these were the origin of 
consecrated statues. The history will bear the remark-, 
that though this is the first mention, it may not be 
the first invention of this token. Did Jacob at Bethel 
first of any one erect a stone pillar? and wherefore add 
oil for its consecration ? if some such rite had not pre- 
viously come to hts knowledge ; not that he used this 
rite as consecrating properly a statue, but rather an 
altar; which also seems to have been the idea connected 
with Jacob and Laban's eating on the heap of stones, 
*"' the heap of witness," which each party readily named 
in his respective language. But though Jacob erected 
an altar, others might erect a representative [or personal) 
memorial to the honour of the Deity they had wor- 
shipped, and this idea of the custom we confirm by 
sundry instances in later periods of time. 

From being at first restricted to the representations of 
deities, images were gradually erected to such persons 
as by their actions or merits were thought worthy of simi- 
lar honours: especially if they might be combined with 



the idea of divinity also; which profligacy is of very 
ancient date, as hero-gods no doubt are of early intro- 

In tracing the progress of Architecture, we see ex- 
ertions constantly directed to increase magnitude; 
and tlierc seems some reason for it, as such extensive 
structures might be supposed to furnish opportunity of 
more and greater conveniencics : but we should scarcely 
have applied the same idea to Sculpture, had not ample 
authority justihed us. Idols portable, and consequently 
small, we regard as the earliest attempts of their kind ; 
after them those designed to be fixed and permanent; — 
these might be more weighty, and of larger pro- 
portions : those of actually deceased personages, in the 
state of mummies, were, no doubt, nothing more above 
tlie natural size, than the thickness of the case which 
contained them ; but, as in all ages the idea has been 
familiar, of much greater men in former times than 
at present, of giants, and extremely tall persons, one 
might have imagined that when sculpture had extend- 
ed its limits to an equality with such, it might have 
been contented, and stopped short of monsters : never- 
theless the contrary is evident; not only by the ac- 
counts we have of the measures of Nebuchadnessar** 
golden image ; but also by the actually existing statues 
(and by other colossal heads and shoulders) now stand- 
ing in various parts of Egypt, and by sundry colossal 
remnants dispersed in and about Rome. 

AVe have hinted at the origin of Architecture, and 
that of Sculpture, but without any reference to Paint- 
mg; we know very well that it was a custom of heathen 
antiquity to paint statues, thereby intending to advance 
them to a nearer resemblance of life ; a custom which 
the Jews, as they were forbidden statues, could not 
adopt. To me it seems rational to place this kind of 

-^ 2 painting 


paintinj?^ before that which endeavoured to represent on 
a l^at superfices the images of figures, though it must 
be owned, that kind also may fairly claim great anti- 
quity, especially in what relates to forming the outline, 
and nlling the inclosed space with colour, which is the 
nature of the orio-inal Monochromata. But wee not these 
monc'Chromata the successors of hieroglyphic writing? 
many hieroglyphics thus filled up remain to this day. 

AVere hieroglyphics antecedent or posterior to let- 
ters? I mean that kind of letters where each charac- 
ter represented a word or a sound. If we advert to 
what now occurs, we find in regions where letters are 
unknown that delineations are used: is then delinea- 
tion first in order in the human mind, before letters? 
it should seem so: that the imitation of objects open 
to inspection, is more natural than the adoption of 
marks, in their nature entirely arbitrary, unconnected 
with any determinate and fixed signification, varied ad 
ivfinitum among different nations, and often coniradic- 
tory in their mode of application : whereas natural ob- 
jects, being permanent in form, and character, the 
native study, and delight of man, what Is more easy 
and direct than their symbolic application, and the 
imitation of them in reference to mental ideas? 

We placed Poetry and Song among the earliest in- 
ventions of man, if they be not rather gitts than inven- 
tions: these were long prior to conimunication of them 
by writing, these draw all their images from Nature, 
why should not a sister Art, with almost equal fa- 
cility, tread the same path? If Poetry lamented the 
early death of some fair infant, as a flower just opening 
prematurely plucked, why may not a painted flower-bud 
indicate the same event? (M^e know it did in after 
times.) If Poetry lament the separation of friends, and 
vow fidelity, the joining hands of picture expresses the 



idea with at least equal force. Be it remembered, that 
the forms of plants, tiieir flowers, and their leaves, the 
forms of trees, and the general spread of their branches, 
are not difficult of desi<m ; a?id that design of these ac- 
tually exists, where the higher branches of Art are 
not studied, and apparently independent of desire to 
study then. I forbear to enlarge, but I just hint that 
certain geometrical figures so readily offer themselves 
for easy imitation, such as crescents, stars, and rays, 
that one can scarce suppose where these were known 
Design was utterly unknown. 

Though probability strongly inclines to placing the 
origin of Picture in remotest antiquity, yet we have no 
authority, that has come to my knowledge, to justify 
positive affirmation of the fact ; no trace of Painting 
-occurs, so far as I recollect, in the writings of Moses, 
nor any allusion to it, and therefore this supposition 
must rest on the reason of things, and candid inference 
from the state of other brancb.cs of Art. 

If the ring which Pharoah gave Joseph " from 
his own hand," says IvIoses, was, as I suppose, a sig- 
net ring, (JosEPHUS calls it his signet) we have an 
early instance of Sculpture applied to Engraving; and 
if the cup wherein Joseph drank, was, as is likely, , 
handsomely ornamented, we see the Art further ex- 
tended, and doubtless cultivated and improved. 

Thus from the accidental hints afforded by Moses, 
we have collected what evidence relates to the Arts. 
From the death of Joseph to the Exodus of Israel, a 
space of 300 years, is a chasm of history we are un- 
able to supply. We may, I think, afiirm, that not 
only many new arts were adopted, but that the an- 
cient were improved : becoming progressively more 
common and popular, they doubtless furnished em- 
ployment to greater numbers of professors, among 
which increased numbers,would naturally arise a greater 



proportion of men of talents, and ingenuity ; though 
their memorials, which might have proved them so, have 
perished : for, though some have suggested that the py- 
ramids of Egypt might date from the children of 
Israel, yet had that been the case, their historian Moses 
would certainly have corroborated the testimony of Jo- 
se phus, and have mentioned those labours expressly, 
as well as the building of the cities Raamses and Pi- 

From the death or embalmment of Josevh to the 
Exodus, no hint that I recollect, alludes to any other Arts 
dian magic arts. Our first period of Art therefore in- 
cludes from the flood to the erection of the Mosaic ta* 
bernacle J whose construction and ornaments being very 
fully descril>ed, together with the ceremonies to which 
it was adapted, we refer to the Mosaic accounts, and 
to a comparison of them with the temple afterwards 
erected by Soloivion, for further information. 

We arc arrived at a period when the Arts were not 
solitaiy, but in company ; not confined to one nation, 
but cultivated by several ; and in various parts of the 
earth. We m^ay now therefore attend distinctly to 
each, and to each as practised by various nations : 
though we cannot particularize their progress, we may 
obtain some general idea of their states at different pe- 
riods ; and though the style, the mode, and the estima- 
lion, of their practice, is concealed by the effects of 
time, the ravages of war, or the convulsions of nature, 
yet we have the melancholy pleasure of tracing where 
they once occupied, and of pointing out the spots 
where thev once flourished. 




The center of Asia seems to me to have been re- 
l^eatedly the center of mankind ; first, as I suppose it 
to have been the seat, if not of Paradise, yet of Eden; 
and secondly, as I think we may justly consider it as 
that part of tiie world v.'here Noah first settled after the 
deluge, and from whence his posterity replenished the 
earth. What might have been the state of the Arts 
previous to the deluge, we have no means of determin- 
ing, unless some suppositions may be permitted at tliat 
portion of them preserved by the care of Noah and his 
sons : and these suppositions must rather be guided by 
probability than by information : for, whatever m.ight 
be the abilities of the antediluvians (and possibly thej 
were very great) in respect of Art, they could only be 
called into cxcercise according to circumstances, and 
circumstances do not upon the whole seem to have re- 
quired extraordinary exertions of Art. 

The Arts in existence before the flood, were. Archi- 
tecture — civil — so far as concerned dwellings: and in 
the instance of the ark — naval — so far as concerned 
that vessel: beside these, husbandry, music, metalkir- 
gy, and probably, weaving, or spinning ; for this has 
been thought to be the distinction of Naamah, if not 
her invention, though not at present mentioned respect- 
ing her by Moses. 

Of their Architecture every memorial has perished : 
nor is it likely any edifice survived the deluge, notwith- 
standing what Josephus mentions of the pillars oiShem, 
one of stone, and the other of brick. Their music also 
has shared the same fate ; unless some relics of its prin- 
ciples, or of its instruments, might remain among Noah 



and his sons ; to be afterwards employed in solemn 
worship. Their poetry has however been preserved in 
a single specimen ; for which perhaps, it is beholden 
to its brevity. 

Lamech, said to his wives: 

** Adah and Zillah hear my voice : 

Ye wives of Lamech, attend to my speech : 

Have I slain a man in my wound. 

Even a young njan in my hurt : — 

If Cain s^.ould be avenged seven- fold. 

Surely Lamech seventy times seven!" 

I think it likely that much other knowledge would 
be acquired by Noah and his sons, whether by per- 
sonal study of it or communication by books or other- 
wise, after tiic notice given to the patriarch of the 
coming dejugc : yet as Noah preserved himself pure 
from the vices of his times, he must also have pre- 
served a certain distance from the prolligates addicted 
to those vices, and hence perhaps his ignorance of the 
power and properties of the vinous juice. Rational 
and intelligent learning, problems of various kinds, 
historical information, and the whole circle of graver 
studies, (if not a 'ready in the patriarch's possession as 
having received part of his attention) might be easily 
obtained without much intercourse among the sons of 
violence, who probably were ill qualified to commu- 
nicate useful knowledge j which only could be hoped 
for from the least debauched of the community. This 
idea accounts for the surprising knowledge in geome- 
try and mathematics which India offers in early ages. 

After so capital an instance of carpentry as the con- 
struction of the ark, that art could scarcely be lost 
among the immediate descendants of those engaged in 



it j nor is it unlikely the building itself might endure 
many years 5 some have said for ages. 

If Noah resided for a time in the centre of Asia, no 
doubt he there taught all he knew : whether he there 
spent his whole life, which is likely, or whether he re- 
moved eastward we know not ; but I think it certain 
he did not come westward, with those who travelled 
to the plain of Shinaar; whom I rather suppose to have 
been principally influenced by Ham. It may be ima- 
gined that Ham, his family, and adherents, quitted 
Noah not long after his curse, and in consequence of 
the offence it gave (for we cannot justly date that trans- 
action) while Shem and Japhet remained with their 
father, a considerable time, if not to the close of his 
life. Much of their posterity might be sent out to co- 
lonize, as they became numerous, and afterwards theic 
original fathers might occasionally visit and regulate 
them : perhaps after a time, or after the death of Noah, 
might settle and govern among them. We have reason 
to think such visits and journies were the custom of 
Ham: (agreeably to what is related of him under the 
character of Osiris) and if of Ham, probably of his 
brothers. We may say then for the sake of a date, 
that about fifty or an hundred years after the flood, or 
A. M. 1700 or 1750, Ham and his associates quitted 
Noah, or revolted from his government, Noah having 
foretold his, and his posterity's fate, to this effect : 

" Cursed be Ham : the father of traffic : 

A servant of servants shall he be to his brethren." 

I think it likely, that it may at length appear, that 
Noah established the divisions of professions by fa- 
milies, as practised by the Indians and Egyptians, (the 
two most ancient nations we know) I therefore rather 
render Cainaan in its sense of a merchant (which the 
Vol. IV. F part 2. word 


word imports) than as a proper name — and if the priest- 
hood (as among the Bramins, Egyptians, Jews, &c.) 
were also appointed hereditary by Noaii, in the poste- 
rity of Shem, it will include a meaning not hitherto 
supposed in his {prophetic words ; which though per- 
haps misplaced here, I beg leave to introduce, as l 
(fonjecture they should be read. 

" Blessed be JEIIOVAH, God of Siir.M. 
For he shall dwell among the tents of Shem :" 

i.e. God shall dwell in the h.abitations of steady, settled, 
virtuous persons ; the name Shem importing him who 
settles: and expressing, I presume, the character of Shem. 

" God shall enlarge the enlarger" 

i. e. Japhet : the name signifying the enlarger. 

That this prophecy (which should be wholly verse) 
has l;)een heretofore injured, is generally supposed — 
that a verse is lost in reference to Japhet, I think is 
to be feared ; and that we have here a reference to 
three classes of professions, seems tome probable — i.e. 

JigricuUirc to Japhet and his posterity. 

Rcligicni to Shem and his posterity. 

Traffic to Ham and his posterity. 

Unhappily, succeeding generations were obliged to 
add the trade of war to the others ; and these/a?//- now 
form the chief classes or casts among the inhabitants of 
India where tliey still subsist : as they did antiently in 

N. B, Shem and Japhet were, perhaps, blessed se- 
parately from Ham's punishment ; and toward the close 
of Noah's life: which accounts for the di&tiiictivc "and 
he said" in the relation of Moses. 



The center of Asia though fertile once, is desert now ; 
it is therefore vain to seek for tho knowledge, or art, of 
the parent stock of mankind, except as preserved by the 
branches : — these may be divided into — Eastern, 2. e. 
India and its dependencies: — Western, i. c. Babylon, 
Egypt, &c. — Eruopean, /. e. Grecian, &c. 

It would be extending this v.ork almost to infinity, 
fo trace very curiously the course of the arts in these di- 
visions ; — the materials for it are not to be obtained, in 
most instances — in others, are very laborious, expen- 
sive, or unwieldy — if indeed they are interesting to any 
but professed antiquaries. A concise view of each may 
therefore answer our present purpose, as general infor- 
mation is all that can be used to advantage with a view 
to improvement. 

AVe may here previously suggest a few ideas, perhaps 
we might call them rules, applicable to this subject. 

1. As all Arts originate from one center, they will 
be more or less resembling to each other, in style, man- 
ner, and application. 

2. This resemblance will be most apparent, the 
nearer they are practised to their source, either in time, 
or in situation. 

3. This resemblance will be least apparent, the fur- 
ther distant they are from their source. 

4. The intercourse of nations will have a great effect 
on the productions of Art ; — since the artists must ac- 
comodate themselves to their purchasers for foreign 
traffic j and since they must imitate foreign excellence, 
or rarity, for home consumption. 

5. ITiis effect will be the greater the more intimately 
the nations are related to their first source. 

6. Climate, manners, religion, rites, ceremonies, and 
the application of the productions of Art, have great 
influence on Art in general. 

F2 OF 




The inhabitants o{ India boast of supreme antiquity ; 
compared to them every account the western world 
can produce, is but as of yesterday ; we have no books 
dated half a million of years ago, when human life was 
ordinarily an hundred thousand years in duration, nor 
yet in that distribution ot time when according to 
them ten thousand years was its allotted period ; a 
single thousand being more than any man ever reached 
according to our relations. What shall we say then to 
this profound antiquity ! If we exchange their years 
for months, reckoning them lunar, not solar, still they 
are beyond credibility j we rather esteem them fables 
founded on allegory, or perhaps, in astronomy, and 
concealing the principles of those who composed them 
from the scrutiny of the vulgar ; an art perhaps not 
first learned from the Egyptians under ScsostJi's, what- 
ever else they might learn from them, including, say 
they. Idolatry. 

But though these pretensions to excessive antiquity 
must be rejected, yet we readily admit that this country 
was very early inhabited, by a powerful and inge- 
nious people, in whose customs and manners may be 
traced the observance of sundry of those precepts 
usually called NoacJxical, and whose institutions, and 
distinctions, bear the stamp of the remotest ages. AVe 
are not now estimating their power, but proposing some 
observations on their ingenuity j and though we have 
reason to think that few of their antient monuments are 
come down to us, yet those which we judge to be the 
most ancient have their merit, and their general style 



is perhaps transmitted among their successors, more 
clearly -than we are accustomed to observe among the 
nations of Europe. 

We are indeed in this case unable to trace the pro- 
gress of Art, as transmitted down to us; we must, as it 
were, climb up to former ages, and guess at them and 
their productions by later specimens. Revolutions of 
kingdoms and change of masters, doubtless operate cor- 
responding revolutions in Art; but it should seem that, 
whoever has conquered India, has been little able to 
improve the Art found there, and the more we know 
of the early science of this part of the globe, the more 
we are led to think highly of those who cultivated such 
science to so great advantage. Architecture, Sculp- 
ture, Painting, Scenical Decorations, Ornaments of 
Apparel, and Ensigns of Dignity, were from remote an- 
tiquity among the articles which aiForded employment 
to the Arts of Design. 

The most ancient edifices hitherto discovered in India 
are ornamented caves, used no doubt as temples (such as 
that of Elephanta for example) they have a regularity 
and contrivance which is surprising ; they manifest an 
astonishing patience in the execution ; they must have 
been undertaken by rich and powerful patrons; and 
they must have occupied multitudes of workmen, and 
for a long period ; these circumstances indicate a state 
of prosperity and population, which can hardly be ex- 
pected in original settlers, unless such settlers were a 
powerful colony under very wise direction. But, such 
as these specimens are, they may afford a hint or two 
in relation to Art; they are usually immense masses of 
solid rock, hewn into chambers and apartments by 
the chissel, their sides smoothened, their ceilings sup- 
ported by pillars, ornamented by numerous Sculptures 
in relief, commonly tolerably proportioned, though of 



gigantic dimensions. These shew the style of the tim« 
wherein they were executed ; but, I think, I discover 
in those of Elephanta the different tastes of different 
sculptors though performed at the same time. Doubt- 
less also many additions have been made, at later pe- 
riods, to the first design ; and, if I might venture, with- 
out being condemned as too hypothetical, to say so 
much, I have thought, whether the first design of many 
cave-temples had not greatly the air of some tradition- 
ary resemblance to a floor of the ark, the roof being 
always low, the center spacious, the columns on either 
side resembling the uprights of that edifice, the object 
(or its symbols) of worship being at the upper end, 
(but rarely hidden by inclosure) and the priests' cham- 
bers on each side of it; if this be fact, then the absence 
of light, except from the door, is no less commemora- 
tive than solemn ; artificial illumination supplying its 
place on necessary occasions. 

Sculpture attains not to established proportions till 
after dih'gcnt attention ; therefore as the figures which 
adorn the ancient temples of India are commonly well 
proportioned, and well worked in respect of handling, 
\\c must regard these rather as traditionary taste im- 
proved, then as original beginnings of Art. 

India abounds in magnificent tombs and palaces, as 
well as temples, but those structures of every kind which 
seem most justly to claim remotest antiquity, are of very 
great labour, great masses and magnitude, but of least 
ornament, and of fewest parts; those temples most ap- 
proaching to the pyramidal form (unless this form was 
imported by the Egyptians) and rising by steps, least 
hollowed within, and rather adapted (in appearance at 
least) for extemal ascent, than for internal accommoda- 
tion. We have reason to believe that the same manners 
and customs, the same dresses, the same ornaments, 



the same taste, have been cultivated in India full three 
thousand years ; allusions in their ancient writings, ac- 
counts transmitted by ancient (foreign) authors, and the 
witness of existing antiquities, attest the fact ; and had 
not the incursion of Sesostris introduced tenets which 
afterwards spread widely, perhaps little hesitation need 
be used in placing Indian Art as the most ancient of all, 
perhaps the origin of all others; at least it is certain, 
that where jurisprudence and public institutions of law, 
of morality, of religion, and of decorum, were studied, 
and well regulated ; where power, and wealth, and 
plenty were associated; where temples and palaces, and 
magnificent tombs were common ; where dramatic per- 
formances were in esteem, and where embellishment 
in general both personal and domestic, was in request, 
there might the Arts be expected to flourish. 

When we know little of the history of a country, we 
know of course less of the history of its Arts : a few 
general principles, are all we can apply to such in- 
stances ; peace and war, conquest and defeat, doubtless 
had greatly the same effect in promoting or suspending 
the Arts in India, as elsewhere ; but not perhaps, 
altogether, for the class of warriors usually contending 
only with others of the same class, the husbandman 
often felt not the rage of war, though it did rage, neither 
was the trader, nor the Bramin, interrupted — and may 
we not justly add the Artist? — if the artist, as a pro- 
fession, was not allied to the duties of the Bramin, or 
at least, under the protection of the order. 

"We have said the structures of India were magni- 
ficient, and the sculptures not ill proportioned; as to 
the pictures of that country, they display splendid co- 
lours, but without harmony; and tolerable drawing, 
but without grace ; they are all light and no shadow; 
consequently they have no repose. The^ exhibit no 



knowledge of perspective, or keeping ; but are too 
fiat, too uniform, too insipid. I judge from having 
seen several portraits, &c. of their Nabobs, and other 
expensive performances, executed by persons certainly 
esteemed of no mean skill. Ordinary pictures have 
been for a long time no rarities ; but from these we 
cannot judge. 

As to the Arts of other Asiatic empires, China seems 
principally to engross them. The Chinese have merit, 
but not that merit which requires extent of thought 
or sublimity of conception : fidelity and resemblance, 
neatness and delicacy, we may allow them ; patience 
and labour, the mechanic practice of Art they possess ; 
but they possess not that refined elegance which origi- 
nates in the deeply reflective mind, or that impressive 
effect which captivates the spectator, and impassionates 
the heart. 




Peace is the friend and reviver of Art, war is its ene- 
my and destroyer ; as peace has contributea to the se- 
curity, ease, and riches, of a state, the disposition of 
its inhabitants has been turned to the acquisition of en- 
joyments, of amusements, of elegancies, w^hich at less 
favourable periods were forgotten or relinquished. For, 
when inhuman war, preceded by alarm and dread, 
accompanied by terror and distress,- followed by mas- 
sacre, famine, and pestilence, overwhelms' mankind, 
where is the possibillity of that sedate self-possession, 
of that cool contemplative forecast, or reliection, re- 
quired by every exertion for the improvement of Art? 
The various political events of the times, therefore, 
ought to be considered in their aspect on the subjects 
under enquiry, if we seek intimate and particular in- 
formation respecting them : but as this would introduce 
undue length, and irksome repetition in reference to 
the Arts, it is better to bear in mind the natural con- 
nection and influence of these events ; in conjunction 
with that impenetrable obscurity which surrounds the 
earlier periods of history. This obscurity is the more 
perplexing, as it arises from various causes; — from the 
entire want of information, and the total silence of his- 
torians; — from their little attention to these studies; — 
from the confusion of their reports ; and from the in- 
adequacy of their judgements. 

A stranger who visits a remote kingdom, must be 
liable to much ambiguous information, even if he can 
have access to the proper channel for obtaining infor- 
mation; he can scarce avoid embracing the opinions 

Vol. IV. G part 2 _ of 


of Hs instructor, though perhaps another person might 
state the same subject in a different manner, and, of all 
which he hears or sees, he will judge after the mode to 
which he has been accustomed, and by comparison with 
the kind of subject,as ho has heard or seen it, in his 
own country- If we suppose such a traveller designedly 
impaitial, and as farss may be, unbiassed, in his prin- 
ciples of rectitude, though he may not intendedly use 
the privilege of travellers, and magnify distant objects, 
y-et being under the necessity of communicating his 
inlOiTrjation m such a manner as may be intelligible to 
Ms auditors, at home, in another country, and in 
another language^ his accounts must needs deviate in 
same degree horn, exactness, and excite ideas not punc- 
tually coirespondent to the subject under description. 
Add to thisj the rarity of copies in ancient times, and 
tiie casuaJ. errors of ti'anscribers throughout a scries ot 
agjes, and we shall form some conception of the allow- 
ances necessary to be made in reading ancient authors, 
and of the embarrassments under which we labour in 
perusal of them. 

As 2( complete or accurate history of this very ancient 
cmph"e is little to be hoped for, a glance or two at 
isomc of its leading events is all I propose. 

We have formerly concluded that about one hun- 
dred years after the deluge, men were sufficiently mul- 
tiplied to think of building a capital city, and an im- 
mense tower, which afterwards received the name of 
Babel: this may well be thought to have remained in 
some considerable degree, the metropolis of those fa- 
milies who continued seated in the country around it 
NiMROD or NiMus, (supposed to be the first Bti or 
Baal, i.e. Lord) emigrating from Babylon, built Ni- 
neveh about A. M. 1955, which, from the success at- 
tending his exertions and prowess in war, and his trans- 


planting the people whom he conquered into this 
his new city, in time rivalled and exceeded Babylon, 
becoming the absolute metropolis of the Assyrian em- 
pire ; which gradually extended itself very far on all 
sides in Asia. Nineveh, the seat of empire, was doubt- 
Jess the seat of Art; and by what accounts are come 
dowm to us, may be considered as a city of great mag- 
nitude and magnificence, including royal palaces of 
very extensive dimensions. From the foundation of 
the city, to its ruin under Sardanapalus, A, M. 
3255, ante A. D. 747, was about 1300 years; and 
though it might afterwards in some degree recover 
from this fall, yet now Babylon resumed its former 
superiority, and long maintained it. 

On the ruins of the Assyrian power arose two empires, 
the Median, and the Babylonian ; ruled by those wiio had 
formerly been governors of these districts under Sar- 
danapalus. Are ACES had Media; Belesis Babylon, 
Chaldea, and Arabia. Arbaces resided at Nineveh, 
and there governed his new empire, nineteen years 
himself, and his successors about 135 years. About 
ante A.D. 612, A. M. 3390, Nabopollassar in con- 
junction with Cyaxares besieged Nineveh, and to 
gratify the Medes, totally destroyed it — from which 
time Babylon became the sole metropolis of the Assy- 

With the destruction of Nineveh, no doubt the spe- 
cimens of Art it possessed were destroyed also ; those 
only that were portable, could be rescued from the 
general ruin, and, if the Babylonians were not too in- 
veterate against a rival city might be transferred to Ba- 

Babylon underwent various fates ; being first subject 
to Belesis or Nabonasar, the Baladan of the 
scriptures (Isaiah xxxix. 1.) whose son Merodach Ba- 



LADAN sent the famous embassy to Hezekiah king o^ 
Judah; ante A.T>. 713. About 87 years after which 
circumstance Nabopollassar revolting from the king 
of Assyria, seized Babylon ; and was succeeded by his 
son Nebuchadnessar, who prodigiously adorned that 
city. Ante A. D. 539, Cyrus took Babylon; as did 
Alexander the Great, ante A. D. 331, whose ex- 
ploits while there, together with his magnificence, and 
ostentation, his debauchery and profligacy, are well 
knjwn: there he died; and his kingdom being divided, 
Babylon ioW to the share of Seleucus; and was totally 
ruined ; partly by inattention to its banks for restrain- 
ing the water, and partly by the rivalship of a new city 
about ^7/^6" A.D. 293, and the space within its walls 
was made a park for hunting, by the Parthian kings. 
When its walls were entirely destroyed is not known : 
nor is its ancient scite at present ascertained. 

In connecting the history of Art with that of Baby- 
lon, we may refer principally to three points of time : 
first, the earliest instance of Art in the tower of Babel; 
secondly, the ostentation of Nebuchadnessar ; and 
thirdly, its state when supporting the profligacy of 
Alexander. But as no remains of any of its produc- 
tions are come to our knowledge, we are of necessity 
forced to acquiesce in what accounts are transmitted to 
us : which relate little of those remote times when Art 
was in its infancy. It seems to me that to acquire ideas 
ot that state, we must advert to the period when Mis- 
RAiM the son of Ham, quitting the plains of Shinar, 
settled in Egypt (this might be A. M. 1800, or ante 
A. D. 2200.) and there practised the Arts then known 
in Babylon ; though perhaps varied, to suit the dif- 
ferences of climate, and soil, and other peculiarities. 




If Misraim the son of Ham, was, as is usually 
said, the first pnnce in Egypt, if he went thither from 
the plains of Shinar, we may well attribute to the 
Egyptian polity the remotest antiquity; nor need we 
hesitate to conclude that the rudiments of Art were 
introduced by the earliest settlers, and being cultivated 
with attention, rose to considerable importance. In 
fact, the remains of Egyptian buildings, excited curio- 
sity and admiration, even in times which we call an- 
tient; and were visited as antiquities by those ac- 
quainted with studies of Art, as well as Philosophers; 
we need only instance, Herodotus the historian, and 
Homer the poet, among the Greeks; and among the 
Romans Germanicus, who by inspecting the anti- 
quities of Egypt, irritated the suspicious Tiberius, 
A. D. 19. 

We find traces of the Egyptian power, and govern- 
ment, in the history of Abraham ; which also informs 
us of Egypt's fertility. In the time of Joseph, we 
trace the same order of traffic, and caravans, as 
in later ages ; and sufficient indications of pomp and 
splendour to justify our conceiving of much more than 
is actually expressed. When we consider the nature of 
the country, that then, as now, the overflowing Nile 
was the source of plenty, we may infer that then, as 
,now, canals to direct its waters where they did not 
naturally reach, would be acceptable : and that some 
of them, at least, would be great works, and require 
no little skill in their conductors. Add to this, that 
during the annual inundation, the lower grounds being 
uninhabitable, the upper grounds became natural sta- 


tlons for cities j that these cities required a solidity 
of construction, for various purposes ; whether to resist 
the -weight of waters in some points, or to contain 
the stores and property of the inhabitants : these, 
in conjunction with the usual causes of strength and 
embellishment in cities, such as fortifications for re- 
sistance, palaces for rulers, and especially temples for 
worship ; w^ould prompt, if not rather force, the gover- 
nors to employ the most durable materials, and the 
most skilful construction. It is not unlikely that among 
the nations who first used stone in building, we should 
reckon the Egyptians ; for, though brick in union with 
timber, might long maintain its station for smaller edi- 
fices, yet for larger works, and for works exposed to 
alternate water and heat, stone is unquestionably the 
only fit material. We may imagine that a frame- 
work of timber, not unlike the skelton of a tent, 
#illcd up with tenacious clay, might be the early hut ; 
to this clay succeeded unburnt bricks, which, w^ell dried 
in the sun, bid fair to be durable in a land rarely vi- 
sited by rain. The next step w^as, to burn bricks tho- 
roughly, especially for buildings of size, and then the 
adoption of stone w^as an easy transition. We find the 
Israelites engaged in making brick ; but that is not 
conclusive against the use of stone ^ as stone Avas found 
only in upper Kgypt ; whereas the soil of Goshen, in 
lower Egypt, where the Israelites dwelt, was rather 
earth and clay than stone, rather meadow than rocky. 
Also, to convey heavy burdens of stone up the Nile, 
against the stream, was useless ; when by the side of 
the river, in its upper parts, huge quarries offered 
themselves, with a ready and favourable- passage down 
tlie stream.. The Israelites built for Piiaraoh " store- 
cities" — treasure cities, or magazines, for corn, &c. 
■which the LXX render * fortified cities.' To consume 



the labour of so many men as were probably employed! 
on them, they were, we may suppose, of considerabla 
magnitude; but of these we have no remains. 

AVhether, as Josephus asserts, the Israelites also* 
built the pyramids, or not, their antiquity entitles them 
to our earliest attention, and we come now to consider 
those very astonishing memorials of antient structure. 
The pvramids, solid by their materials, and permanent 
b) their form, remain to justity the accounts trans- 
mitted to us of other edifices. Of these the largest is- 
thought by travellers to be the oldest ; it is in length 
on its sides, about 700 feet, its angular height the same, 
its perpendicular height not quite 500 feet ; resting on 
abase ofrock, of which every advantage has been taken, 
and which, toward the bottom, is perhaps partly cased; 
the rest of the building being a solid mass of stones; 
some of them prodigious large, and all very weighty, 
especially to raise to so great a height. By what king 
this was built is uncertain : Herodotus calls him 
Cheops: and says the setond pyramid was built by 
Cephren his brother: by Syncellus, Nitocris is said 
to have built the third pyramid. In such uncertainty 
has issued such mighty labours ! No mention has ever 
been made of the name of the architects employed ; 
perhaps as artists they were little regarded. 

As these are among the earliest instances of Art, 
let us consider what principles of Art they possess. (1) 
Their form is that best fitted for durability, (2) their 
height renders them conspicuous, (3) their workman- 
ship is excellent: the stones, which compose the cham- 
bers usually visited, are nicely joined, well cut, and 
polished ; now as this is the result of experience in work- 
manship, it demonstrates — these are not the original 
instances of application of stone in buildings. More- 
©ver the tomb inclosed is of porphyry ; whose dif- 


ficulty to work is well known, and baffles the skill of 
modern Artists. Let us also remark , some things in 
which these buildings are deficient. (l)They have no 
ornaments ; not even the tomb has any relievo on it, 
(2) they have no hint of columns of any kind, or 
mouldings to correspond ^vith them: (3) they have no 
circular arches throughout their construction ; — other 
ancient Egyptian buildings generallyhave ornaments in 
profusion, though of hieroglyphics only. Was this the 
result of the state of Architecture at this time } Had 
the original tower of Babel, of which I conceive these 
are imitations, no arches? Herodotus indeed men- 
tions arches as supporting parts of it ; but were they 
circular arches, and if they were of that form, were they 
not added afterwards? rather were not these pyramids 
transcripts of that famous edifice (which Strabo calls 
pyramidal) before its enlargement, and ornament by 
Nebuciiadnessar? but which, being composed of 
more durable materials, accredit the accounts of that 
original which they endeavoured to emulate. With 
this idea agrees the general form of all the ancient 
Egyptian temples remaining, which is universally pyra- 
midal, and of several very ancient structures in India; 
whose general resemblance is little short of exact. We 
run little risque in dating the pyramids before any other 
remaining structures. 

We can by no means pretend to determine strictly 
the course of improvements adopted in private con- 
structions, or even in sacred edifices, but as the usual 
progress of things is from small to large, we may 
acquire some idea of this course; and we may as 
well exemplify it in the buildings of Egypt as in those 
of any other nation. Always remembering, that pro- 
bability is all can be offered on such very remote sub- 
jects; and this, as combined with, and regulated by, 
the manners of a people, their wants the events ot 



their history, their mixture with other nations, and 
partial, or total adoption of their customs, the acci- 
dents of their climate, and the nature of their religious 
rites and ceremonies. 

The private and humble dwellings of ordinary in- 
habitants, never were, in any country, so solidly con- 
structed as to defy the ravages of time ; nor were those 
of the most opulent individuals designed for purposes 
bevond their personal accommodation. Pafeces indeed 
were public buildings, and engaged the best Art of 
a nation ; but these, in case of war and capture by 
the enemy, were most likely to suffer in general pillage. 
The temples only, whose sanctity might secure them 
from ruin, while their construction, often superior to 
tiiat OY the palaces, ensured their duration, — the tem- 
ples only, can be expected to exhibit to later ages, the 
principles oi Art as understood at the time of their 
erection. To this agrees the present state of all the 
antiquities existing in Egypt; a few ruins, scarcely dis- 
ccrnable, remain here and there, of some of the royal 
buildings m that country i but, in general, the palaces 
may be regarded as levelled to the ground; whereas 
many temples have escaped the fury of men, and the 
accidents of ages, and remain, though decayed, yet de- 
cisive, monuments of antient grandeur. 

Tiie first temples were like the first dwellings, sim- 
ple in construction, and small in dimensions: the sup- 
posed habitation of a God, or a Goddess, differed 
little from the real habitation of the votary. Perhaps 
a simple cabin ; or if a hedge, a mound of earth, or 
other small inclosure surrounded it, this slight fence 
was thought sufficient to indicate its consecration, and 
to prevent intrusion. Afterwards, when the support of 
an officiator was deemed honourable to the Divinity, 
the temple must be augmented to accommodate the 

Vol. IV. H part 2 residents i 


residents; and strange indeed would it be, if the resi- 
dents in one temple did not wish to honour their tute- 
lary Deity with more costly offerings, in more sump- 
tuous structures, and with more numerous worship- 
pers than their rivals, lliese required enlarged di- 
mensions of the edifice, and enlarged dimensions re- 
quired additional skill in the architect. It' tht longer 
beams were not better sustained than the shorter, they 
would bend, perhaps break ; if the roof were not bet- 
ter constructed, it would alarm, and might destroy the 
votaries : the beams, therefore, were propped with 
supports, and Geometry was called in to adjust the 
roof. It is true, no znooden structures remain to de- 
monstrate this hypothesis, yet in some stone buildings 
are preserved very probable vestiges of such a pro- 

The position of a column in the middle of an entry, 
seems by no means so convenient as to be supposed 
desirable ; but it may here support and prop the in- 
cumbent weight; and, certainly, a row of columns in 
the middle of an edifice, from end to end, seems cal- 
culated for no superior purpose, being equally foreign 
from use and beauty. In fact, the awkwardness of 
this position was soon discovered, and columns were 
removed to a proportionate distance on each side the 
centre ; thereby acquiring uniformity at the same time 
that they contributed strength. 

Perhaps the word column o\\'^\\i not to be used as 
descriptive of these supports ; they were probably 
mere upright beams ; their branches lopped, but their 
trunks rough as nature furnished them ; probably too» 
the idea of a capital as an ornament might be suggest- 
ed by an additional block to render one or other of 
sufficient length ; and thus might some happy genius, 
pleased with the appearance of a head-pkct, and im- 


pressed with the beauty of uniformity, unite by rule 
what before was the effect of chance, and originate 
the rudimental principles of what we now term an 
ORDER. This appears to me as likely an account 
of that strange peculiarity in the Doric order, undoubt- 
edly the most ancient, of having no base, but in all its 
remaining early specimens, going straight into the 
ground, as the commonly received supposition of its 
resemblance to the human frame ; which can be satis- 
factory only to those who imagine that column was an- 
ciently without feet. 

The internal distribution of a temple deserves 
attention ; for think not the holy and most holy were 
equally accessible ; the magnificence of the portico first 
struck the mind with solemnity, before the worship- 
pers entered the sacred edifice, which was not on all 
occasions, for sacrifices were usually offered in the area 
before the temple, not inside the building, which was 
totally dark, having no windows ; and little light from 
the door-way. Having passed the portico, the door 
admitted into the first apartment, beyond which was 
the adytum or most profound recess. Agreeably to 
these ideas, and in traditionary imitation of the vene- 
rable gloom of consecrated groves, most of the Pagan 
rites within their temples were performed in obscurityj 
or torches or lamps added a dim lustre to the mystic 
ceremonies. Such was their general construction : but 
temples dedicated to many deities, were constantly open 
at the top J whether, supposing such an assembly like 
that of the Gods on Olympus, or whether, to provide 
against mistakes in votaries, who might worship a 
wrong God of the assortment, I will not determine. 
' I conceive that most, if not all of the truly ancient 
Egyptian rites, were commemorative of facts, or of 
persons, or of both united. Nothing seems more pro- 

H 2 bably 


bably to have been their origin than u desire ot in- 
forming posterity on the subject of certain occurrences 
esteemed interesting, and to transmit ideas and rela- 
tions of them to future generations: but where histo- 
ric records are unknown, except to a very few, where 
letters, if existing, do not popularly prevail, what bet- 
ter method can be suggested to assist tradition, than 
ceremonies imitating and representing in some degree 
the fact to be transmitted ? Suppose it a bloody bat- 
tle—a sham fight renewed the whole story; especially 
if the names of the contending parties were annually 
repeated : Suppose it a death deeply lamented — an 
annual mom*niiig on the day of decease, and especially 
if accompanied by funeral solemnities, for such or such 
a person, revived the grief of all attendants. On the 
other hand, if it was a signal benefit — joy and exulta- 
tion had its memorative lorce on this occasion ; and 
fell little short of that pleasure which attended the ori- 
ginal fact. This was doubtless the first mode of historic 
information i it is in its nature the most impressive, 
and the most lasting ; witness the Passover yet retain- 
ed among the Jews, the Eucharist among Christians, 
and many similar instances, though perhaps somewhat 
changed in their objects by succeeding superstitions, 
still existing in the east. The Arabs have some whieli 
they refer so far back as to Ishmael; and Kgypt has 
some, very plausibly thought to be derived from the 
generations which succeeded Osii'is. 

The first worship was in the open air, or in the so- 
lemn grove: nor was any tent, shed, or protection 
raised, till a sacred enclosure, at least, if not till an 
idol, was to be protected; to whom after a while, a 
guardian was added. To accommodate the idol, a 
house was built, and to accommodate the guardian, 
this house had various additions, and augmentations, 



till )t became what we term a temple. This, in a 
Tew words, is the liistory ot Architecture ; varied no 
doubt, by a thousand different circumstances, local, or 
accidental, to suit the ability, or the tancv, or the super- 
stition, of the time and place, or ot erectors and pa- 

Sculpture in Egypt appears to have early reached a 
certain degree ot merit, and to have adopted a cer- 
tain style, mode of expression, and effect, which it long 
retained; and which in some departments became ve- 
nerable and sacred. That the Egyptians practised 
sculpture in wood, from early ages, appears amonc- 
otlier instances from the number of ligures shown 
to Herodotus by the priests of Egypt, repr«- 
senting so many (1 suppose. Royal) priests in succes- 
sion, every one being obliged to place there his sta- 
tue : each of which was denoted as a '■' pyromii; son 
oi 2i pjjromis ;' i.e. ■Si great personage, but no deity. 
After wood, ivory was a very favourite substance, be- 
ing easily cut, and of great delicacy. Sycamore w^ood 
was in repute among the Egyptians. It may bear a 
query whether it was not part of the office of the 
Egyptian priests to provide idols for the temples i per-^^ 
haps of their own performance: this may derive some- 
support from the Israelites' application to Aaron t(? 
make them Gods ; and from the part he took in that 
business. Had not the people seen such instances in 
the country they quitted ? Why else overlook the 
abilities of Bezaleel, and Holiab? 

Many circumstances concurred to render statues of 
wood likely to be the first adopted : the material being 
easily worked, light of carriage from place to place, 
when requisite, as in public religious processions, light 
of weight, if placed on any support, or pedestal, and 
susceptible of painting, gilding, and other ornament. 



The expence of working stone, was no doubt greatly 
superior to that ot" working wood, or of casting metals; 
while wood was less liable to accidents than statues 
of terra cotta, (the first of models) to which a down- 
fall was utter ruin. Some of these wooden figures, or 
imitations of them, also in wood, still exist. As to 
Egyptian stone statues the labour in working some of 
them is prodigious ; those of porphyry consumed a 
whole year in polishing only. 

We cannot properly caH the rough unhewn styli, or 
memorial pillar?, or betulia, by the name of Sculp- 
ture; though I think, we nmst allow them to be very 
early approaches to it; if not the origin of this Art. 
But we are to consider them as too large and cumber- 
:>ome to be carried about the person, while yet the 
same devotion that erected them, would wish to have 
the fact memorialised by the most convenient tokens, 
by tokens relating to the power, or divinity, so com- 
memorated ;and, as by degrees, the idea prevailed of that 
divinity in some sort accompanying its representations, 
the devotee would wish to have those advantages always 
at hand, always in his house, always about his per- 
son, as well as in the public structure or temple ; and 
hence the numerous smaller statues of wood, or of 
metal, which were little else than so many protecting 
deities, talismans, or charms. But if we are to con- 
sider most of the public Egyptian religious rites, as 
being commemorations of deceased per^ions, Osiris, 
IsiSy and others, we may conclude these persons were 
represented as present at sucli ceremonies ; often, by 
their images, together with their symbols; — these 
images were imitations of those cofBns wherein they 
were inclosed ; — those coffins were no other than the 
mummies of these supposed deities, and as we know 



the general form of mummies, we perceive in them 
the first objects of study proposed to Art. 

I conceive that, at first, the very identical mummies 
of O^'mand his were usedm the commemoration ser- 
vices of the city where they were deposited : some ac- 
cidental cause might, atter a time, change them for 
copies in that city ; and all other cities must be con- 
tent with copies, or with ideal portraits, as substitutes, 
from their fir^t acceptance of such Vr'orship. If then the 
images of dead persons were properly the first Sculp- 
tures, no wonder they v/ere still and motionless -, — their 
arms hung down close to their sides, as did those of 
a mummy ; their legs were closed, as were those of a 
mummy j like a mummy too, the features of the 
face were but slightly m irked, and the front of the fi- 
gure only was paid attention to ; because, as mum- 
mies originally stood in niches in the walls, the back 
parts were totally concealed from the spectator. The 
Egyptians had the mummies of their ancestors placed 
orderly in their apartments ; and boasted in such a gal- 
lery, as our noble families do in the pictured portraits 
of their progenitors. May it not be thought that the 
embalmers were the first sculptors ; and that a wooden 
image being formed, it was painted like to a mummy, 
when from some accident (such as dying in a foreign 
country) the real person was not procurable ? and hence 
we discover why countries at a distance from the origi- 
nal seat of such worship, were less scrupulous respecting 
the forms and attitudes of their sacred images ; because 
they were less acquainted with, and less interested in, 
the veracity of the portrait-representation. 

Mummies were standing figures; but some of the 
Egyptian statues were sitting ; this we account for, 
from the subsequent ideas of the country (and certain- 
ly these are later figures). Where labour and exer- 


tion arc consigned entirely to the lower classes, and in- 
dolence is supposed to be a privilege attendant on rank^ 
-where to be waited on, is to be most strongly dis- 
tinguished from those who wait; in a hot climate, 
which produces laxity of habit, and of manners, a 
sitting posture will be indulged by all capable of 
indulging it: this obtains in those parts at this dayj 
and probably always was so. Hence, deities were, after 
n time, among the Egyptians represented sitting : i. e. 
receiving in state the homages, the services, the adora- 
tions, of their worshippers; and as being thereby placed 
at the utmost distance of attitude and appearance from 
ordinarv men. 

If Sesostris lived, as some suppose, in A. M. 2800, 
ante A, D. cir 1 200 years, and it he was the author of 
those immense works attributed to him, (which no one 
doubts) il follows, that Sculpture, as well as Architec- 
ture, was cultivated in his reign ; as is demonstrated by 
the creat Egyptian obelisks now at Rome ; and yet 
further by the account of his erecting female Hermes 
in the countries which he had conquered without re- 
sistance. If the date of Sesostris be lowered, (to ante 
A. I), c/r 1000) although the works attributed to him 
are correspondcntly lowered also, yet unless those un- 
dertakings could be supposed the very earliest of their 
kind in Egypt, the Arts lose nothing ot their antiqui- 
ty by this circumstance. However that may be, it is 
granted their workmanship is excellent in its kind : and 
the tools with which it is wrought were of ingenious 
contrivance, and excellent temper; circumstances which 
indicate progress in skill and manufacture. 

But we may with little risque trace the progress in 
form of the early figures; — placing first, the betulia, 
or-.itnple stones, erected but not worked; doubtless 
:h"ir iirst jaipruvcment was the addition ot a head; 



and this head was meant to be characteristic of the di- 
vinity commemorated ; barely, perhaps, at first oistin- 
i^Liishing whether male or female, whether old or 
young : yet in time this excellence would gradually be 
aitiiincd- But as the character of the face alone was 
certainly inadequate to clear distinction, there was ne- 
cessary some adjunct circumstance, symbol, or peculia- 
rity, whereby the specific deity intended should be dis- 
criminated: this seems to imply hands, to hold such 
a tuken j these were improved by arms, and atterwards, 
arms at length, not rising from the breast, but growing 
from the shoulders ; thus the upper part of the figure 
acquired a kind of perfection, while the whole body 
and legs were represented by plain stone. (These 
terms, or terniini, were extremely popular, and long 
in use, and are retained by our Artists). Some 
of these termini had feet ; probably such as tvere 
required to stand on somewhat of an elevation, whe- 
ther altar, or pedestal, separated from a wall : this ad- 
dition of feet hinted strongly at the division of the 
legs, which were long indicated, before they were dis- 
joined ; and after they were disjoined, were long kept 
parallel, and together, and straight upright, in perfect 
conformity to the mummies, their venerated and con* 
secrated prototypes. 

Symbols are of very early invention, and of very 
general use j and as they constantly accompanied cer- 
tain deities, they became objects of respect, veneration, 
and worship, even when separate from their peculiar 
divinities. May we not guess that the expences, &c. 
attending images of the Gods, rendered these lesser 
idols popular } also, that these- from being substitutes, 
became afterwards adjuncts, and might occasion that 
monstrous mixture of animal heads, &c. whicn p-^e- 
vailed ? They were also more convenient of carriage as 

Vol- IV, /part 2 talismans. 


talismans, or charms, a custom very prevalent in the 
east, formerly, as well as at present. 

Symbols seem to have arisen from several causes : 
(l) from the names of persons represented ; if Rachel 
signifies a sheep, Susamia a lilly, and li/ioda a rose, — a 
s/iccpy a //7/y, a I'ose, will bring to mind Rachely Su- 
san?2a, or Bhoda', put either of these symbols into the 
hand of an image, you have, if not the portrait, yet an 
ideal memorial of the person intended. (2) From the 
favorite animals of great personages : if Osiris had a fa- 
vorite bull^ he might be constantly attended by the ani- 
mal ; whence, after his death, a bull might become his 
representative. (3) If Osiris was the first person who 
tamed and domesticated wild cattle, the bull was not 
unjustly attributed to him : the same idea we know ap- 
plies (to Isis or) to Ceres and her corn. (4) The quali- 
ties of the mind were early expressed by reference to 
animals, &c. — couragebya /ib/z, sagacity by an elephant : 
and perhaps patient labour, and courageous fortitude, 
combined with docility and benevolence, as being of 
great use to mankind, were some of the qualities attri- 
buted to Osiris when the bull was determined as his 
symbol. (5) Particular exploits against wild animals, 
or against persons or states symbolised by wild animals, 
&c. might occasion a name ; and from a name, a 
symbol to the party ; in this case it would be analogous 
to certain of our own coats of arms. (6) Ensigns of 
dignity, the crown, the sceptre, and afterwards rays, 
the nimbus, &c. speak for themselves. 

The particularities of the Egyptian style of Sculp- 
ture, may be hinted at, under the articles conforma- 
tion, or feature ; attitude, or posture ; and idea or ex- 
pression. Art naturally imitates what objects are be- 
fore it: if the usual figures of the natives of a country 
be tall and slim, or short and squab, such will Art pro- 


duce. The natives of Egypt were not entirely remov 
ed from somewhat of a Chinese figure, and such many 
of their statues represent them. Some have thought 
Aristole justifies the remark that the bone of their legs 
turned outwards. 

Their female figures though generally slight of shape 
have very large breasts. 

The Ethiopians, and perhaps natives of Upper Egypt 
also (often spoken of under the name of Ethiopians) had 
flat noses ; the Egyptians were altogether sun-burnt and 
brown of colour. 

The attitude of their figures is stiff and awkward j 
often the feet parallel ; especially in sitting figures. In 
standing figures, one foot is commonly advanced. In 
their figures of men, the arms generally hang down on 
the sides ; to which they also adhere ; consequently, so 
far as depends on the arms, they are motionless. Har- 
pocrates with his finger on his lips is an evident excep- 
tion, yet even his arm adheres closely to his breast. 
In their figures of women, only the right arm adheres 
to the side, the left being folded on the bosom; they 
are very thin waisted. Sometimes their attitudes were 
crouching, or resting on the knees and heel ; a posi- 
tion still retained in the east, and used by servants be- 
fore their masters. Probably where this attitude oc- 
curs it denotes a worshipper, or suppliant. 

Their style of dravving has as few projections as pos- 
sible; a smooth even line prevails uniformly ; the bones 
and muscles are but slightly hinted, the nerves and veins 
not at all. The knees, elbows, and neck, shew those 
risings ; the spine is rarely visible ; not at all in figures 
placed (as most of them were) against columns. 

The heads of Egyptian figures have eyes descending 
obliquely, scarcely ciunk at all into the head, but level 

/ 2 with 


with the supertices of the facej the eye-brows, eve-, 
lids, and form of the lips, are usually indicated by rmes 
cut in the stone : the eye-brows rise at their cxt rem i tic:- 
on the temples ; the cheek-bone is high, and strong ; 
the chin meagre and short, rot forming a \vell-shi;ped 
oval to the head : the' junction of the lips, instead of 
descending somewhat at its external termination, rises; 
the mouth is always shut ; the cars are placed remark- 
ably high ; the hands are ordinary, the tect are flat, and 
large, the toes flat witliout articulations, the nails are 
denotcd by angular incisions in no degree rounded. 

In their figures of certain animals, the Egyptians 
adopted much freer principles, gliding outlines and 
wmding sweeps; and the parts are well made out • 
the reason seems to be, that religious veneration did not 
equally include them as objects of concern, \vhcrea> 
the human statues being usually representations of di- 
vinities, or kings, or priests (their substitutes on cartii) 
superstition once satisfied, there fixed its standard. 
Plato says the Egyptian sculptures of his day dit- 
fered nothing trom those made a thousand years betore ; 
if this should be relied on, we mav, by means ot the 
Egyptian statues remaining, give a very good guess at 
the original productions of Art among them ; and per- 
haps not among them only, as that period of tim,e car- 
ries us back to a date when this degree of merit 
seems what might be natural to the Art, as then prac- 
tised in most nations. 

It was not possible, in after times, when they re- 
presented gods with the heads of hawks, or lions, or 
cats, that elegance could ensue ; the composition 
was ruined at once. Reason supposes that these wild 
thoughts were adjuncts to the figure, which at first was 
free jrom tiiem ; the taste that could adopt them, de- 
serves not the name. 



Tiic f.pliinx was r» favourite subject in Egypt ; and 
F.on:coft}iem arc well treated ; they have the head of 
51 woman, the hinder parts of a lion. There arc also 
men sphirxes, and other variations. 

In regard to their draperies, most of tiieir men fi- 
gures are naked, except a napkin about their loins, ar- 
ranged in small folds, but none are ever quite naked. 
'I heii women figures are covered with drapery, but it 
iits so close to the bodv, as to be sensible only at its 
edges, about the neck, and the legs; and, where fold^; 
naturally must be,they are very liglitly indicated ; whence 
at first si"-ht thev mav be th-ouirht naked, tliou2:h in- 
tirely clothed. It is likely these dresses mean to re- 
present extremely fine muslin; and 1 have sometimes 
thought that muslin of this delicate texture was really 
the famous fine linen of Egypt. 

Their bas-reliefs arc nearly fiat; which Is one reason 
why many of them are well preserved to this day. 

It is to be observed, that many Greek masters hcive 
occasionally imitated Egyptian figures ; that often, one 
style is grafted on the other ; and that, though the 
Egyptians tb.emselves never quitted their prescribed 
mode, yet foreign countries, where the worship of their 
frods prevailed, were not so scrupulous. Now it some- 
times happens that as the most considerable remains of Art 
(supposed Egyptian) are these imitations, and variation? 
of ancient Egyptian productions, a talse idea is con- 
ceived fro mi them, in relation to genuine works of that 
country. Egypt itself affords a few temples only: — 
Rome offers some truly ancient specimens ; but many 
which are only Greco-Egyptian. Hieroglyphics are a 
sure sign of antiquity ; most others are doubtful. Imi- 
tations, however, being once fashionable at Rome, con- 
tribute to convey a general, though not an accurate 
knowledge of the taste they copied. 



As to Egyptian painting, none remains that we know 
of, except a few incrustations of colours on temples in 
Upper Egypt ; these, beautiful and fresh as the first day 
they were done, attest an excellence in their compo- 
sition, which raises our admiration. Being painted on 
relievos they have, no folds, or shades : some parts of 
them are gilt. As to the figures given by Mr. Bruce 
they are not particular, or correct enough, to furnish 
a decision, even of what they represent : indeed the 
difficulty of procuring correct copies is insuperable. 

There are also a few imitations of their mode of 
painting ditcovered at Herculanemn ; but as these are 
comparatively modern, we cannot tell by them, what 
judgment to form of the originals they imitate j noT 
of their degree of imitation; whether they may justly 
be esteemed copies conducted by competent masters, 
cr mere memorunda, or done by description. 

Some few engravings on precious stones remaiji, to 
which may be applied the remarks made on their statues. 

li may be strongly doubted whether Artists were in 
any respectable esteem in Egypt, as no mention is made 
of their names, or any notion of their stations hinted 
rit, notwithstanding the admiration so otten bestowed 
on the temples, palaces, &c. which the}'^ erected. A 
casual hint has preserved the name of Memnon Syc- 
NjTES, and of him only, if indeed it be not the name 
of a statue, rather than an Artist. 

Very little is knov^n respecting the condition of Art 
in Egypt in ages succeeding the time of Sesostris : 
the devastations of Nebuchadnessar and Cambyses, 
deprived the country of its records. Herodotus says 
but little on the subject ; and very few authentic glean- 
ings of remote antiquity fell to the lot of Diodorus 
SicuLus. But after the dispersion of Art and Artists 
from Athens, by war and Demetrius, the Ptole- 


MIES of Egypt gave great encouragement to skill and 
ability ; I might add to patiencQ, also, since porphyry 
especially, required no small portion of this quality to 
complete it as a work of Art, and very considerable 
works were about this time executed in basalt. As these 
productions were altogether Grecian, and performed 
by Greek artists, they can scarcely be directly referred 
to the Arts of Egypt. 

The successors of Ptolemy Euergetes, were mon- 
sters : Art could not flourish under such tyrants, and 
Thebes itself was almost utterly ruined under Ptolemy 
Lathyrus ; as Alexandria had been by persecution and 
banishment of its citizens, and the flight of artists, by 
his father Physcon, ante A. D. 136. Arts and learnins: 
therefore rather existed than flourished, down to the 
days of the lascivious Cleopatra, and the enchanted 
Antony. Afterwards, when Egypt became a Roman 
province, the emperors deprived it of many of its noblest 
ornaments, which they transferred to Rome j where, 
under various fates, they have been hitherto preserved 
for the inspection of the curious ; and this has been 
a favourable shelter to them, else had they been also 
destroyed by the same rude hands, as ruined Alexan- 
dria, and by the same barbarity as used the books of 
its library to light the fires of the baths, to the total ex- 
tinction of the glory of Egypt. 


64 A CONCISE iirsroRY of art 


Persia had artists from the earliest ages i but time 
has deprived us of their performances. Persepolis alone 
offers any remains of their works in marble, and ot 
ihcir edifices i but as these buildings are almost totally 
destroyed, their figures, being bas-reliefs, are greatly 
injured ; v/e can however discover the forms of their 
dresses, and enough to obtain a general idea of the 
objects of their worship. 

The leading principles of their art are allied to those 
of Egypt j but no scientific Artist has yet published 
remarks on them ; — neither can we tell their date ; — 
nor determ.ine whedier they exhibit the best merit of 
their age : whether Art was then advancing, or declin- 
ing, or at its height. Some Persian engraved precious 
stones are extant. After the Grecian manners were 
introduced among them, and after the establishment of 
the Parthian kingdom, their works, especially their 
medals, of which many remain, deviated from their 
ancient taste to that of the Greeks: but being, no 
doubt, conducted, and directed, if not executed, by 
Greek Artists, we cannot justly estimate by them the 
meiit of Persian Art. 




The Phenlcianshad the same principles of Art as the 
Kgyptians, and Babylonians: but of these we can 
only judge from what medals are comedown tons; 
no figure that we can appropriate to the.nbeing '-mown. 
Carthage, being the daughter of Tyre, no doubt re- 
ceived its Art from thence ; and by means of the me- 
dals of Carthage, we may estimate those ot Phenicia, 
with little doubt, while the intercourse was frequent, 
and the relation acknowlcdfjed. 

But what if Tyre and Sidon, universally placed among 
the most ancient, of cities, and universally acknow- 
ledged most mercantile and opulent communities — what 
if they also cultivated the Arts, as we know they did 
letters ; what if they trafficked in, and exported, gold 
and silver wares, ornamented with figures, or vases, em- 
bellished in various manners ; or idols ready prepared 
for newly erected" temples — in such case,, it would be 
no wonder that Hiram king of 'lyre furnished such as- 
sistance to Solomon when building his temple. — It is 
at least evident, that the people who were the best cut- 
ters of wood, may be thought able sculptors, that those 
who built the best ships, must understand as well geo- 
metry, as astronomy, metallurgy, the mechanic Arts, 
and a variety of other knowledge — is it likely that 
where riches, and knowledge of these arts abounded, 
the Arts of Design should be omitted ? It may indeed • 
be thought they only circulated the productions of 
other countries : but it seems more probable, those who 
could make their own Hercules, and chains to secure 
him, could make other deities if a market was open for 

Vol. IV. K pari 2, JVDEA. 



The Jews were by no means exalted as Artists : So- 
lomon performed his works by the help of foreign ar- 
tists ; and their national dread of idolatry discouraq;ed 
the progress of Sculpture. What images of gods tuey 
occasionally adopted, were imported from abroad, and 
are usually denominated strange, or stranger-go s. \et 
that tl>ey practiced ornaments of various kind;., appears 
not only from the number of rings, bracelets, &c. 
worn by them ; but may be further inferred from the 
number of crqftsmeyi, (1,000 of them and smiths toge- 
ther) cA/;2Zf//cr.v which Nebltchadnezzar carried to Ba- 
bylon. The allusions in the Scriptures to various or- 
namental parts of dress^to embroidery, to jewels, aid 
to other circumstances, prove they had no small share 
of ostentation j and though, it may be, that like the 
present Turks, they represe]-ited no living animal, yet as 
some few of tlieir medals exist, with the type of the 
rod, and the vine, and the vase, it is not impossible 
they might indulge also in other ornaments, which did 
not require human or other figures. 

It is w^rj credible, that after the times of David and 
Sol'jmon, the golden calves of Bethel, &:c. /Vrt might 
receive the patronage of individuals whose houses and 
furniture, at least, would partake of the national taste, 
to the time of the Babyh.Miish captivity ; from which 
time to their subjection to the Romans, probably the 
eastern taste prevailed j and afterwards the Greek. 
Herod's temple was altogether Grecised. 




As to the Arabs we know little about their attention 
to Art ; and yet some very curious instances of Art re- 
main among them: not forgetting the famous Caaba of 
Mecca; and the black stone of VenuS;, and its cres- 

The literature of the Arabs has been great ; when 
it shall be better understood in Plurope, we may find 
that this people have had their Art and their artists, and 
that from veiy distant periods. 

Arabia is a region of great extent : the pastoral life 
is followed in many parts ; — where moving tent-towns 
are in use, whatever ornaments or images Art may fur- 
nish they must be small : but in some cities they may 
be, and probably are, more considerable. Poetry has 
been, and is, highly cultivated ; — and if at present Ma- 
hometan superstition has forbidden representations by 
images, it is because Mahomet found idols very nu- 
merous and popular; and from the gross worship at- 
tached to them, they became objects of his especial 
prohibition^ and hatred. 

JC 2 OF 



If, as has been supposed by some learned men. 
Ham was the same person as Cronus or Osiris, and 
Isis was his wife, thero seems much probability that 
several parts of Greece as well as Asia minor liad very 
early intercourse with Egypt: but if, as Sir Isaac 
Newton sup^^osed, by Osiris is meant Sesostris, and 
by Sesostris, SmsHAc king of Egypt in the days of 
Rekobokam king of Israel, ante A. D. J002, then tlie 
antiquity of that deity is very much abated, unless in 
this case, a revival and renewed application of those 
original idolatrous rites be supposed, as now transferred 
to tiie reigning king; which, from later instances of 
similar vanity, is not incredible. If Osiris be placed 
one generation lower, and so be the same with Miz- 
RAiM, the various journeys he is said to have undertaken, 
and the colonies he sent out from Egypt, to settle in 
various parts, justify the inference oi this intercourse. 

Not that Japhet and his posterity (who quitting Ba- 
bylon has occupied most European countries) was now 
excluded Irom them, but that, probably, many advan- 
tageous spots, bays, harbours, &:c. were not by them 
at first discovered, and after discovery, were not peo- 
pled. Often also the inhabitants of newly erected 
towns adjnittcd strangers into their communities 3 and 
indeed were glad of the additional strength they derived 
from'such association. 

'"■"Jikii^SEs says. Gen. x. 13. ISIizraim begat I.udim, 
{the' Liidi/esJ which seems to point pretty strongly at 
the origin of the ancient kingdom of Lydia. lliat Miz- 
RAiM night have a son whom he named Lucl, is not 
impossible 3 but that the form of the word used, ex- 


presses a people, is certain ; and that this peopte de- 
rived their origin from Mizraim, or Egypt. I>ydia 
sent colonies into Italy. 

Nevertheless, as tlie posterity of Japhet [lapctos 
among tlie Creeks) pc-opled Europe, though we can- 
not tell precisely the date of their quittirig Babylon, 
except we refer it to the confusion of tongues, they na- 
turally carried with them their share of the knowledge 
of their native land; to this, when they came to the 
.sea-coast, they added that of navigation ; and by this, 
if they proceeded nortliward, crossing large rivers, or 
if they proceeded southward, crossing the Arcliipelago, 
they entered and populated Europe. ^Ve should do 
wTong if we imagine any regular train of migration in 
these instances : we should ratiier conceive, that after 
variou: changes and removals, the colonists settled and 
fixed their habitcitions as directed by circumstances. 

l"ne most ancient moPiarchy of Greece whereof we 
have any historic account, is that of Sicyon, on the 
north-west side of the peninsula : this kingdom was 
hrst called ilLgialea^ perhaps from its first king Al^gi- 
ALEUs: whose reign is by xArchbishop Usher, fixed to 
A. AI, 19] 5, about the middle of the third century 
after the flood. It appears trom hence, that he was 
cotemporary with Nim:s in Assyria, and Mizraim in 
Egypt, and before the birth of Abraham about 70 or 
80 years. 

Arcadia and Argos were little later in time, if at all ■ 
but we are not to consider these settlements in theii 
early state as either numerous or splendid ; thougl 
termed kings, their leaders were perhaps by courtesy 
complimented with the regal title, and little able to 
cultivate even the earth extensively, much less the de- 
corative talents of their subjects, or associates. For 
as the number of their companion-subjects were rarely 



very considerable, or very wealthy, but rathi?r such 
persons as sought to improve their circumstances, we 
must suppose them first attentive to their support, be 
fore thev could think of elegance. 

It appears then that akhough Babylon furnished Eu- 
rope with its first inhabitants, and that by means of 
Asia, minor, and Lydia, Sec. they kept up some com- 
munication with it, ^iiK, that after a while the power of 
Egypt, and the ready passage thither by sea, superseded 
the former connection, and strengthened tlie inter- 
course between these countries. We may, therefore, 
rather expect the learning of tlie Egyptians to be im- 
ported inio Greece, than that ot Babylon, and rather 
the customs ci\ ii and religious, the manners, the taste, 
and the principles of Egypt, as distinct from, though 
traditionally, and perhaps closely, allied to, the Babylo- 
nish, than tliose of that intended center of mankind in 
the west. 

Egypt being the seat of a powerful manarchical go- 
vernment, and great pojjulation, was ea-rly one oi the: 
seats of Art, and capable of directing its efforts to very 
considerable undertakings; was enriched by its traffic 
witli other nations; was turnished with all desirable'ma- 
terials for Art to work upon ^ and being very populous, 
and plentifully supplied with the necessaries of life, its 
inhabitants, arid especially its princes, had leisure; to cul- 
tivate and study the principles of Art> and to unite 
practice with tlieory. From the^ie causes becoming fa- 
mous, foreigners from all parts resorted to Egypt; 
pbiloso[iheis to study ethics, historians to procure ma- 
tt riah ft;r history, and architects to inspect its buildings,, 
and their decorations^^ in order to imitate them in their 
viative countries. 

luuropc was divided into numerous states, and pro- 
vinces s and U recce especially, far from being united 



Qixier one head, was subdivided into numerous com- 
munities, often jealous of each other, and often at vari- 
ance; nor till their powers were settled, could t'lat 
emulation, altcrwards so impulsive, act with any effect, 
if indeed in behalf of Art it did really exist. The 
earliest settled cities were the forwardest in commerce : 
hence Tyre supplied Greece with many commodities, 
with manufactures, with letters, and with gods. 

The more ancient we suppose the settlements and so- 
ciety of Europe, the more tlieir state of knowledge 
and of art, is imperfect; their ideas and style are so 
much the nearer to that of simple nature, nor could the 
advances made in Art among better informed people, 
speedily reach them. In later times, after having at- 
tained to somewhat of prosperity, and even of renown, 
after being visited by loreigners for purposes of com- 
merce, and perhaps being shewn by them productions 
superior to their own, the principle of imitation would 
exert itself, and latent genius would strike out novelty 
and improvement. Emulation, the natural companion 
of ingenuity, would prompt some to seek abroad that 
information not to be acquired at home, and the lustory 
of Dedalus is a striking illustration of this sentiment. 
Dedalus is dated 50 or 60 years before the war of 
Troy; and consequently must be placed according to 
the date of that event, which like most other points of 
chronology is variously assumed, not without plausibi- 
lity, whether higher, or lower. He is said, in conjunc- 
tion with his nephew Talus, to hav^e invented the saw, 
the turning lathe, the wimble, the chip-axe, and other 
instruments of carpentry ; but is especially noted 
for having visited the labyrinth of Egvpt, in order 
to build a similar palace for Minos, king of Crete; for 
scpr.rating the legs of statues, and giving them an air 
of life, and motion; and for the application of sails 



to ships. Tho tlriii oF t-iis illustrious genius forms an 
epoch in the history of Art. Pausanias says, that 
some of his figures in wood remained to his time, and 
that notwithstanding their gross workmanship, they had 
somewhat noble, and even divine : that their work- 
manship could not but be gross, we may easily infer 
from the circumstances of their author ; no less than 
iVom the relation of Socrates, who giving the opinion 
of the Sculptors of his day, said, if Dedal us should 
return to the earth, and perform works like those at- 
tributed to him, he v/ouid be laughed at by his fellow 

It is easy to conceive, that after any master had so 
far unshackled his Art, improved its principles, and in- 
creased its op|K-)rtunities, succeeding Artists would seek 
and apply yet additional embellishments, and tread in 
the steps of their illustrious pattern : their works also 
would be more esteemed, more in request, and their 
every povvcr be exerted to the utmost, to acquire or 
maintain, tlieir reputation. 

As we cannot accurately judge of die abilities of any 
people merely from description of their works, we na- 
turally pay most attention to those whose performances 
are come down to us; and these 1 would slightly hint 
at, as divided into the schools of Hetruria, of Greece, 
and of Rome. 

After the Egyptians, the Etruscans are the most an- 
cient people, who by cultivating Art advanced it to a 
certain degree of perfection ; and we are peculiarly in- 
terested in their behalf, because, what seem to be some 
(if their earliest specimens of Art have happily survived 
the calamities of ages, and are now submitted to our 

Etruria was colonized partly from Ionia or lA,dia, 
and partly from Greece : but these colonies peopled it, 



at various periods, and under various circumstances. 
The first colony was six hundred years before the latter, 
and under the conduct of Tyrhenus ; whether the Pe- 
lasoi who accompanied him were properly a Greek 
pi^ople, or whether the Greeks of those days did not 
call all adventurers by sea Felasgoi^ may be doubted : I 
have some persuasion of the truth of the latter idea; 
which, if just, then the Fdasgi who settled in Etruria, 
mi^ijiit not be exclusively Greeks, from Arcadia and 
Attica, but adventurers from Asia minor also, and con- 
sequently no strangers to the Arts of Assyria, and Lydia. 
•iIo\\ever that might be, they settled in the country 
of (modern) Pisa, to which they gave the name Tyrhe- 
nia: they were acquainted with sea-affairs; and tra- 
versed the enterprize of the .\rgonauts ; whence we 
may conclude their commerce, and their navy, to have 
been v/hat in those days was tliought respectable. 

A second considerable colony re-inforced the former 
about 300 years before Herodotus; and now they 
spread throughout Italy, further extended their com- 
merce, and formed alliances with the Phenicians, those 
universal traffickers. 

The Abbe Winckelman is of opinion, that the 
Etruscan works remaining, are manliest proofs that 
these latter colonies introduced into Etruria as well let- 
ters as Arts : which opinion is supported by their my- 
thology, and the events they represent. But it is, also, 
every way possible they might have received instruction 
respecting these matters from Phenicia, if not from 
Egypt; and no reason occurs why they should not 
havS'been (like Sicily and Sardinia) included among 
the nations visited by those who were every where dis- 
persed under numerous leaders in the days of Cadmus, 
(or of Joshua) which supposition does not deny their 
principal connection to have been usually with Greece ; 

Vol. IV. L part 2 to 


to which the forms of tVicir letters agree. It appears, 
however, after the Trojan war, while CJreece was 
t -."nultu.ited by civil dissentians, Erraria enjoyed a long 
peace ; and as peace is the most benevolent friend of 
Art, especially when supported by comm^^rce, Art 
flourished here, under a government seemingly popular. 

The Mtruscan style attained considerable correctness 
of Design, and proportion; was expressive, bold, and 
wclj pre nounced ; but d .hcient in delicacy, and grace. 
Soitness was by no means its cha'racter ; but in gene- 
ral, a suddenness of molion, and want of sweetness in 
its outlines; whose too anguhir turns produced a stlfi- 
iiess, a harshness, not to be expected from the merit 
of many ot the parts, or the general composition of the 

Much of what has been said of the features, and of- 
tcr -n the attitudes, as treated by the F'gyptians, ap- 
plies to the Etruscans: especially in their moie ancient 
performances: their lat- •' works are perhaps scaiccly to 
be distinguished from the bett Greek productions. 
A^ter they were conquered by the Romans, they ceased 
to improve ; and were too mudi intermingled with 
their masters, to be distinguislicd as a separate school 
of Art, but long before this they had furni^icd assist- 
ance in art and artists, to that, afterwards, emporium 
of the world. 

As to those called Etruscan \''as<"s, of wliich nume- 
rous specimens have come down to us, tl^ey are evident 
proofs of excellence in Art : their torms and compo- 
sitions, their or;.aments, especially the figures, and their 
variety in shape, and in size i^some of them being v%ry 
large) demonstrate the progressive improvements ot 
a long course of years. I'he general likeness ot their 
style, and their numbers, manifest also the existence ot 
a sclw>ol 01 Art, which conducted its works upon prin- 
ciples i 


ciples ; and as the iirtists seem to have been nu'nerous, 
t (Cir profession seems also to have been ia esteem. 
Ldtc antiquarians have endeas'oared to deprive the 
Etruscans of the merit of these performances, and ro 
trar>sfer it to the Greeks: though 1 do not ttiink it 
originally of Etruria, yet as it mi j;.at be imported from 
elsewhere than Greece, and as it is pretty closely allied 
to the style of Egypt, and of Asia minor (so far as 
we can trace it) though greatly improved, I rather think 
the Lydian parents of the Etruscan colonies may claim 
this style as their offsprini^. But if it be thought to 
have been equally cultivated int'iemore southern parts 
of Italy (where specimens are fi^equently round) I see 
no reason for denying it; but I do not find sufficient 
authority to determine, that it is solely or principally 
Greek, the figures, the dresses, and the ornaments of 
many vases seem considerably allied to those of India : 
1 believe the fact to be, thr.t many such things were 
common, by importation or otherwise, to sundry na- 
tions, around the borders of Asia. Many of these sub- 
jects remind us of the refinements and riches of the 
court of Crg?.sus. 




Under a general idea, the history of the Arts iw 
Greece may be divided into four periods. 1 . That of 
improvement, from Dedalus to Phidias; 2. That 
of excellence, from Phidias to I^ysippus and x\pel- 
LES. 3. That of mediocrity, which gradually issued in 
decay. 4. That which tliey still cultivated under the 

The most ancient instances of Art, we can quote, 
are medals, whose composition and workmanship may 
impart some leading ideas, though not an accurate 
estimate, of the state of Art in their times ; these be- 
ing of almost all cities of Greece, of Italy, and ot Sicily, 
and agreeing for the most part with relations of au- 
thors, they contribute essentially to direct our judg- 
ment on the skill of their authors, and the taste of their 

The first style of Art in Greece was properly Egypto- 
Grecian, hard and stiff, but gradually acquired dig- 
nity ; it wanted freedom, but it studied force ; it was 
not equal to graceful distinction ot character, but it 
studied a noble selection of parts; and by rejecting the 
minuticc of nature, it advanced toward an ideal excel- 
lence, whose character was firm and masculine. This 
seems to have been the character adopted by Dedalus, 
and this was long cultivated after his time. 

From Phidias to Apelles Art made great progress, 
in perfectioning those principles which it had adopted ; 
it dropped somewhat of grossncss yet remaining, it 
became more polished, more accurate, and refined, 
and, as Painting advanced greatly during this interval, 
its p/rogress seems to have had some happy effect on 
Sculpture also. 



Gliding and elegant lines, uniting beauty with grace, 
succeeded the union of beauty with grandure j softness 
associated with correctness; or perhaps, sometimes, 
claimed the first attention. As violent action had given 
place to vigorous expression, so vigorous expression 
gave place to smooth, gliding, attitudes and forms, 
and these were esteemed according: to their w;race. 

Grace was of several kinds ; severe and sublime; 
lovely and attractive; wanton and youthful. 

After the perfection ot Art, succeeded a certain 
suspence, which, iiot projectmg improvement, was 
content to retrace the merit of former masters rather 
in former works, than in present performances : hence 
arose mediocrity, and, this once established, the Arts 
declined, especially when untoward events intervened 
and distressed them. 

These ideas may be justified, by reference to sundry 
statues yet remaining ; but we cannot determine in 
respect of pictures, but by referring to the accounts of 
ih( he who formerly insj)ected them. We have no per- 
ftjrmancesof the great masters: it in Ilercuianeumhave 
been preserved some copies of them, we cannot tell 
what might be the abilities of the copyist; but if they 
were rather imitations made by memory, or done in 
haste, ot which most have the appearance, or done at 
a low price, to gratify individuals ; or if they were 
copies of copies, then, it is clear, we must not decide 
on the merit ot the great masters by what these offer. 
Nevertheless some of these have much freedom of 
handling, a good style of design, grace, and beauty; 
but they are not altogether correct, peither are they 
well composed or grouped. 


'Die most celebrated schools of Greece, were those 
ofEciNA, ofSicvoN, and of CoRiNiH. 

The school of Kgina, may be estimated almost 
equal to the age of Dld.lus. It is certain from tiie 
number of statues attributed to artists of Egina, that 
the arts were early cultivated there. The natives were 
famous navigators, and engaged ia commerce; cir- 
cumstances favo-iirable to Art ; and their vases, and 
other productions were very generally esteemed, Egi- 
na was enriched by the spoils ot the Persians after tl>e 
defeat of Xerxes : but was afterwards ruined by the 
Athenians, for having taken part with the Lacedemo- 

Sic YON was among the earliest kingdoms of Greece, 
at first called Eg i a lea ; its schoolof Art lasted long, be- 
ing upheld in reputation by a succession of tanious art- 
ists. This city contained a numerous collection of ca- 
pital performances. Eupompus, Pamphjlus, Poly- 
CLEius, Lysippus, Apelles, completed the glory of 
this school: whose repute was great in the time of 
ProLEMY Philadelphus of Egypt, who in a most 
pompous procession exhibited a number of pictures all 
of this school. The city of Sicyon was robbed of its 
ancient productions by AIarcus Scaur us, under pre- 
tence of a debt due to Rome. Cir. ante A. 1). 133. 

CoRiNiH, from the advantages of its situation, rose 
early to importance and opulence .; and became one of 
the most powerful cities of (jreece. It is said, that 
many improvements in Art were owing to its painters; 
and it is certain the city was highly ornamented by 
buiklijigs, statues, and pictures, till destroyed by Mum- 
Mius, ante A. D. 144, Olymp. 158, 95a years after its 
building. It lay neglected, till revived again by Ju- 
lius C/iiSAR, after 100 years of desolation, ante A. D. 
44, but though it speedily tlouribhcd greatly, yet its 



pre-eminence was now departed. It has the repute 
of having sent Cleophantus into Italy to Tarquin 
the elder, who taught the Romans the Greek methods 
of painting : cir. ante A. D. 600. 

'Ihe victory of Marathon raised Athens from a 
state of no great importance, to signal splendor-, this 
city became tiij nurse of Arts and letters, and espe- 
cially in the time of Pericles, ante A. D. 550. was or- 
namented by numerous public buildings, whose re- 
mains at this day testify the abilities of the Artists, and 
the munificence, as well as the taste, of the citizens. 

Si-/ RTA was rival of Alliens, as well in arts as arms; 
and at length almost its destroyer, under Lysander; 
though it recovered from this calamity, yet it did not 
attain to equal influence in Ureece. 

PfiRiCLiS governed Athens forty years ; and during 
bis administration, Phtdias was employed in embellish- 
ing the city ; at the same time, other parts of Greece 
were emulous of distinction, and engag-ed in similar 
undertakings, so thai this is the brightest period of Art 
in Greece, War interrupted this period: the history of 
the next thiity years is merely an account of battles, 
and though intervals of peace succeeded, yet they were 
too short for Art to flourish in as it had done. Athens 
at length coalesced with Philip of Macedon, who 
was not without magnificence and munificence. Phi- 
lip of Macedon, and his son Alexander, were suc- 
cessively the leaders of Greece; being warriors. Art had 
not much encouragement (apparently) to expect from 
them, nevertheless, contrary to what might have been 
tliought, it met v^ ith cousiaer^blc protection: and in- 
deed in the time of Alexander Art has some excel' 
lencies to boast of, wherein former times were defi- 
cient. Elegance, grace, and delicacy, were now fa- 
vourite studies : and, patronized by the prince, the Arts 



in these new branches, attained a perfection hitherto 
unknown; the Greeks abandoned tlicmselvcs to plea- 
sure, even Sparta relaxed its austerity, festivals and 
games abounded, and tlic Asiatic modts of laxury al* 
most universally prevailed ; the conquest of Persia p-ave 
new Hte to the cities of Greece, and was an event too 
considerable to be passed over without general celebra- 
tion, to adorn which, the Arts contributed largely. 

The death of y\LEXAMDER, and the disturbances at- 
tending the divisioi'i of his empire, naturally engrossed 
the public attention ; nor till these important matters 
were settled, could the Arts expect the honours they 
might justly claim ; and v. hen restored to public respect, 
they )ielded rather ornament than merit, rather flowers 
than fruits; not long a'ter which Art forsook Athens, 
for Asia and Egypt. 

After the Achaian league liad occasioned a war, we 
find the barbarity of the combatants raging against the 
monuments of Art, burning the temples and destroy- 
ing tlieir statues, a certain token that now genius and 
taste were extinct. The istae of this confederacy was 
tiie intervention of the Romans; who at length under 
Lucius TsIummius destroyed Corinth, and reduced 
Greece to the form of a province. The capital works 
of Corint'n were transported by Mummius to Rome> 
and used in his triumph : but some of the ancient sta- 
tues of v\ ood remained buried under its ruins, till re- 
stored by JuLiDS Cu5:sAR. The other cities of Greece 
shared the same fate as Corinth ; and so rare were ca- 
pable artists afterwards in Greece, tliat to complete thp 
temple of Jupiter Olympus, Antiochus Ei'iphanf.s 
sent for Co'isu HIT-, an architect, Irom Rome. 




The Roman School had Jittic to boast of in relation 
lo originality as artists, as a state founded on Avar, and 
studious principally of military discipline ; when pub- 
lic buildings were necessary, Rome had recourse to 
foreigners; first to the Etruscans, afterwards to the 
(jreeks. It must be owned, that what remain of the 
ancient Roman works, have at least the merit of soli- 
dity to recommend rhem ; and seem by their construc- 
tion, as if designed to perpetuate the immortal city. 
Of their early productions, professedly elegant, we know 
little ; but after tlie Grecian style was imported, and 
especially atlcr the desolation of the Greek cities, the 
Roman buildings became immensely sumptuous ; and, 
requiring correspondent ornaments, statues, busts, and 
pictures, were lavished upon them. The number of 
these subjects reported by ancient authors is scarcely 
credible, did we not know that thousands have been re- 
covered, and that when opulent individuals vie with 
each other in magnificence, luxury will procure objects 
of ostentation, far beyond the requisitions of just taste, 
and real embellishment. 

Sylla destroyed the Arts in Greece ante A.D. 
cir. 85, but encouraged them in Rome ; and C^sar, 
lollowing his example, was even prodigal in collecting 
works, as well as in displaving magnificence. It should 
->eem, nevertheless, that the i^omans themselves produc- 
ed few artibts of considerable en-iinence, and that most 
of their undertakings were tlie productions of 
Greek refugees j who, transmitting their instructions to 
others in less respectable stations of life, and subject to 
the capricious tastes of arbitrary masters, to the ener- 
vated conceptions and freaks of coniipted manners,Iost 

Vol. IV/ Mparl 2. that 


that genuine ardor and noble emulation, without which 
the maintenance ofArt is impossible. Moreover, as many 
of the captives imported into Rome became slaves, and 
probably, of these, other slaves were commanded to 
learn, the Arts gradually sunk under the weight of such 
fetters, and rather referred for merit to remains of for- 
mer ages, than endeavoured to equal or surpass them. 
This repr. sentation is but too true : yet we Hnd very 
honourable exceptions, andhave sundry excellent artists 
on record, from the time of Augustus to Trajax, 
A.D. 98, who notwithstanding the decay ot taste, and 
the substitution of atTccted beauty for genuine graces^ 
of pomp for accuracy, and ot profusion for simplicity, 
yet produced master-pieces not unworthy of their no- 
blest predecessors, Trajan revived Art all in his 
power 3 and the pillar erected to his honor proves his 
endeavours to have been successfuL Adrian continued 
the same encouragement ; and even extended the stu- 
dies of Art J which prolonged the existence of these yet 
declining professions, to the time of Constantine ; 
when the seat of empire being removed from Rome, 
A.D. 329 or 330, a considerable part of what merit 
then existed passed to Constantinople, and though de- 
graded and overwhelmed, there, if any where, it con- 
tinued to exist : while Rome and Italy v/ere ravaged by 
the barbarous nations of the north, their noblest monu- 
ments destroyed, temples, arches, statues,pictures,in one 
general ruin confoinidedjand desolated with truly gothic 
fury. What time had spared, brutal force destroyed ; and 
what had for ages been beheld with veneration and re- 
spect,these invaders trcatedwithoutregard,and destroyed 
without mercy; nor, tiil the revival of letters, and the 
dispersion of learned men (according to the learning 
of their age) occasioned by the taking of Constantinople 
by the Turks, A. D. 1453, did the Arts revisit Italy. 

A sue. 




A.M. Ante A. C. 

1. THE CREATION. 4004. 

In tlic eighth generation from Adam, Moses 

Jabal as the father of Husbandry; 

JuBAL as the father of Music; 

Tubal- CAIN as the father of Aletallurgy ; 

Naamah the inventress of Weaving and Spin- 
ning, as the Rabbins sa}' — but ^^Ioses is silent on 
this subject. AH these in the posterity of Cain. 

1656. THE FLOOD. 2348. 

To this period relates whatever may be said on 
the construction of the ai'k : which may justly be 
esteemed the first ship. 

1747. Babel supposed to be begun, by those chrono- 2257. 
logers who imagine the name Peleg (division) com- 
memorates the commencement of the confusion, (and 
the division among mankind ten years later) but 
those who imagine this name refers to a division of 
the earth by Noah among his sons, place Babel 
Jater about 30 years. 

1757. Pde§^ i. e. division. 

M2 Celestial 


A. ^f. Ante A. C. 

1771. Celestial observations made at Babylon ; as ap- 2233. 
pears from the accounts transmitted by Calistlifnes 
in the time of Alexander's conquest of that city 
(A. M. 3674) who says they had observations 1903 
years old ; but as we are ii^norant on what prin- 
ciples the computation was made, and if, as is most 
probable, it included only 3(^0 davs to the vcar, 
the difference will justify tiie lo\\er date for l\n'. 
erection of Babel, A.M. 177S, at which period 
the structure was doubtless sulHcicntly finished i'ar 
such purposes ; though not equal to the lirst in- 
tention of its builders. N. B. The same dilVerencc 
in the length of the year applies to the whole of 
this part of the Chron<3logy. 

1830. Hebron built. 

1837. Zoan built. 
Sidon built. 

1900. Bklus II. /. f. Cash, reigns at Babylon. 2101-. 

1915. Sicyon founded by ii'irw/t'i^.s. 2089. 

\99o. Nineveh built: probably by Nunrocl, \^ Nhnrod 20 o9. 
and iV/»?/^ be the same ])erson. Gen. x. ] 1. " Out 
of that land he went forth into AssAria and budded 
Nineveh, even the streets of the city" — perhaps 
rather *' even the city with streets," or regular 
places and distributions. Query, W^as this the fust 
city, built on a rcguhir plan ? if so, the circum- 
stance is very agreeable to the character of Nim- 
rod, who first seems to have settled regular pro- 
vincial govern me 11 r. 

2008. ABtAMAM born. 199u. 

2083. — Flies from idolatry now spreading in Clial- 
dea : whether memorial images were in use, is un- 
know n ; hut probable. 

Somewhat previous to this date a colony led into 
Itidy by 7\j)'scmiSy or Tjjrhnms^ — into K.truria. 

Crcs builds Gnossos, and a temple to Cybele, in 
Crete. Qu(m'v, Whether this temple was an 
edifice, or only an enclosure containing an altar, 
and surrounded by groves? 



A.M. Ante A. C. 

2106. Abimelech gives a veil to Sarah. 1898. 

ABRAHAiM weighs silver to purchase the cave of 1859. 
Macpelah. N. B. No money coined yet. 
2\13. Rebekah receives valuable jewels, as a nuptial 1856. 
present : a golden ear-ring, two golden bracelets 
for her wrists — also jewels of gold,— jewels of sil- 
ver — raiment — precious things. Gen. xxiv. 
The kingdom of Argos founded by Inachus. 
2163. Esau and Jacob born. 1837. 

The deluge of Ogj/ges, which wastes Attica ; 1764. 
vei-y memorable because the country was ruined for 
200 years. 7'o this deluge the poets chiefly refer. 

Jacob flying to ^Mesopotamia consecrates a stone 1760. 
pillar at Bethel. 

Jacob returning, Rachel steals her father's 1739. 
ti-raphim : i. e. images now perhaps, though ra- 
rities, yet spreading. Jacob and Laban's heap 
of Avitness. 

Jacob receives from his houshold the strange 1732. 
gods that were in their hands, and the car-rings 
Avhich were in their ears : images becoming more 
2276. Joseph sold. N. B. His coat of many colours. 17:^9. 

2290. Receives Pharaoh's signet from his 

wrist —also his second chariot, as a mark of honor. 
Egyptian Arts, magicians, and wisemen, men- 
tioned. Gen. xli. 8. 
2298. Joseph's silver cup — Avherein he drank — ^here- 1707. 
by he divined — or made trial. He sends waggons, 
or carriages, for Jacob. The priest-princes of 
Egypt retain their lands and power : after the 
people had parted with their money. Query was 
the money coined ? 
2316. Jacob dies, is embalmed, i. e. in the manner 1689. 
of a mummy. 

Joseph dies. 1635. 

2443. Moses born. 1574. 

2443. Athens founded by Cecrops. 

The Trojan kingdom founded by Scamander. 1546. 



A. M. Ante A. C. 

If Moses was, as is frciiornlly thoiurlit, the author 1 530. 
of the book o(Job, that ])atnai\:h mav be placed 
earlier about 100 years: about thiti tiuu: the |i6em 
is written. 
2513. The Exodus. The 7'abernaci.e. [4'JIj 

The particulars of this structure, and its dc- 
peudaucles, are so fully relattui in the book of 
Exodus, tliat notiiing need be added here. 


The Tabernacle. 
2.513. Aaron makes the golden ca'i". 1491. 

Siirincs, or taiisinans, of other deities, were fre- 
quent, if not popular, aniouLr the people. 

'I'he worship of in)ag;:s, with symbols expressive 
of their attributes as deities, altogether common in 
the iatid of Canaan, as ap|>cars from the great va- 
rietv of names denoting such objects, as being 
^worshipped in the towns of that coimtrj. 

As the Pj'ramltls cannot he accurately dated, 
yet are of very remote antiquity, they may be 
mentioned here ; it i^ usually said the largeiit is the 
oidest, but this being contrary to gencrdl rules, 
in Jny opinion, niav be doubted. 
215 1. Sesostris in Egvpt, cut many canals; placed 1475. 
before the temple of V'ulcaTi marble statues, 30 
cubits high, of himself and his qneen ; also four 
others of his children, 20 cubits hig-h. 
247 5. Danaiis, the ^'gy ptian, being expelled Egypt, 145^'. 
bcUlcs in Greece about this time. 

Phenix — Cadmus — both from Egypt, reign in 
*^'.' Byriu ; ovev 'I'y re and Sidon ; by the e, were letters 
&c. transmitted into Europe, not that (as I sup- 
pose) Europe was ahsolutel}' destitute of the art of 
'\\ riting, but that it was more dillicult and more 
rare; being iilso less favored by public institutions, 
such astei«pl€s,coeH'ts of justice, laws, treaties, &c. 



A.M. -Ante A. C. 

than afterwards. At leapf, the art Mas revived 
and propagated bv ('ndmus, and his followers. 

AcHAN pnrloins " a goodly Babylonish gar- 1451. 
2449. Joshua erects tho. memorial stone. The tribes 1426. 
bevond Jordan had erected the altar of witness. 
N. B. In after times Samuel erected the Eben- 
ezer : this mode of communicating histories of 
events yet remaining in 

MicAK loses his gods: they were made by *' a 1413. 
founder" — whence the art seems to have been at 
this time, studied at least, if not a distinct pro- 
fession. N. B. 'J lie date of this story is dubious, 
4iud liot accordingly to its place in the scriptures. 

Minos in Crete. 1406. 

lu the song of Deeorait, about this time, 1285. 
S'isera^s mother is represented as expecting a prey 
" of divers colors, a prey of divers colors of 
needlework, of divers colors of needlework ou 
both s'iles" — the art of embroidery seems now to 
have bi-en highly valued. 

Orpheus the poet. 1284. 

Tvre built. . 1252. : this artist merits a history by him- 
bclf. i livire is much difficulty in determiiiin<'- his 
(late. Perhaps there were two of the name. 

Gideon surnamed Jerubaal : on occasion of his 1 243. 
destroying the altar of Baal ; and the grove (or 
Ashvt'h) peri)aps an image of the jnoon, as the for- 
mer of the sim. 'I'he quantity of golden orna- 
ments (Jiidges viii. '^6) received by Iiim, shews 
then* general ns«i. 
•^TIo. Thtseus ; famous for his exploits as a hero : I 235. 
having truvelled much, and seen foreign cities, at 
his return to Atiicns, he adorns thu^ city, and re- 
gulates its worsliip, Lc. instituting additional 
rites, &c. 

Troy taken. 1 184. 



A. M. Ante A. C. 

Sampson overturns the temple of the PIiihs-lU7. 
tines, which was sufficiently large to accommodate 
on its roof 3000 persons, yet which rested on two 
pillars: the construction of this e iifice was un- 
questionably curious. Probably it was not of 
stone but of wood. This fact is supported by ac- 
counts of the prodigious theatres, 6cc. of wood in 
after-ages among the Romans. 
2679. Saul — cultivated decorative Arts. — " clothed 
the daughters of Israel in scarlet, with delights, 
and put ornaments of gold on their apparel." Pro- 
bably he introduced the 'JVrian dye : and pro- 
moted riches by commerce. 

David — assisted to build his house by the ar- 1044-. 
tists of 7//rc7;;?, king of TyiT; — whence it should 
seem that the Israelites Avere not competent to 
capital works, 'lyre was at this time in its glory. 
David begins and promotes a traffic which after- 
wards became immense. 
S930. Solomon jjromotes the study and practic^e of 1012. 
architecture; adopting a very magnificent, and 
expensive style, as well in his own places as in 
the temple of God — in all this he is assisted by Jli- 
rani king of "r3're, who furnished him both with 
timber and carvers. The name oiliirom^ov lliironiy 
occurs as a chief overseer — he was son of a wo- 
man of Napthali by aTyrian father. 1 Kings vii. 14. 

Solomon's promoting of commerce is remark- 
3100. HoMi-R and Hesiod. 

Rome buiU. IS'.i. 

3078. Sardanapalus, being besieged in Nineveh, 747. 
consumes himself and his riches by lire. 

Arbaces and Belesis having overthrown the 
ancient Assyrian empire, begin two empires at Ni- 
neveh and IJabylon. 

Ahaz admires an altar he saw at Damascus, and 74 1 . 
imitates it. 
3210. Syracuse built. 

IIezekiah — 


A.'M. Ante A. C. 

Hezekiaii — The retrogradation of the shadow 726. 
on the sun-dial, and tlic embassy from Babylon in 
consequence, are very remarkable circum:>tances ; 
showing- that such means of measuring time were in 
use: ulso, that the Babylonians continued very atten- 
tive to the astronomical science. 

Sennacharib invades I'gypt, destroj's Thebes, 710. 
and harasses th " country. 

Psaisimitichus king of Egypt attempts to unite 617. 
the Nile and the Red Sea by a canal, but after con- 
suming 120,000 men is obliged to desist. Sends a 
fleet round Africa. 

Tarquin at Rome builds a circus and introduces 
ornaments of art. 

Nineveh destroyed : though it somewhat reco- 612. 
vered from this calamity, yet it never became the 
seat of govenmient again. Its present rums are of 
great extent: at, or near, Mosul, on the west side of 
the river Tigris. 

Epivienides builds the altar to the unknown god 
at Athens. 

The eclipse foretold by Thales the Milesian, 
happened Sept. 20, ante A.I). 601. It suspended 
a battle, and made a peace. 
3260. Solomon's temple plundered. One thousand 598. 
craftsmen and smiths (or workers in ornamental 
decorations) carried captive from Judea: a con- 
siderable number, and shews the general taste for 
their works. 

EzEKiEL mentions portraits, chap. v. 593. 

Solomon's temple burnt. 588. 

Nebuchadnezzar's golden image. 
3266. Tyre taken by Nebuchadnezzar and de- 573. 
stroyed, but the inhabitants pad removed to an 
island about half a mile distant from the shore, 
■which afterwards. became, also, a famous lyre. 

Nebuchadnezzar ravages i gypt, destroys and 
spoils the whole country, and loads his army with 
Vol. IV. N. part 2 Nebuchad- 


A. AI. Aiitt .\. C. 

Nebuchadnezzar applies himself to adorn and 
augment Babylon. The most remarkable works in ^ 
this city, were: (l) The walls, 87 feet thick, 350 
feet high, 60 miles in length. (2) The temple of 
Bel us i. e. the tower of Habel, which he sur- 
rounded by area?, porticos, &c. (:j) The harig- 
ing gardens. (4) 'ilie banks and quays of the 
river. (5) The lake and canals, &:c. for draining 
the waters. 

NiTOCRis finished the works begun by Nebu- 
chadnezzar; and added others which were very 
wreat undertakings. 

The Hrst cometly acted at Athens on amovcabh' .561. 
3400. CrOisus king at Sard is ; the riches of this king 56 1, 
are proverbial, his magnificence, his gifts to the va- 
rious temples of Greece, &c. manifest the style of 
Art in his court to have been highly cultiA'ated ; and 
that artists found much emplo3-ment, recompcnce, 
and esteem. 

Crcesus (after crossing tlie Halys on an arti- 548. 
ficial bridge) defeated by Cyrus. 
3419. CvRUs takes Babylon. 5id. 

Darius coins tiie first golden darks: which im- 
plies an attention to the art of coinage. 

Second temple budding 536 to 515. 

1 he first tragedy acted at Athens on a waggon 
by Thespis. 

Cambysis ravages Egypt; destroys the gods, 526. 
tcn)ples, priests, books, ^c. 

A public library founded at Athens. 5 1 3. 

Darius invades India. 506. 

Sardis burnt by the Greeks, Part of the houses 504. 
were of canes: the others oidy co\cred: in which 
this city, so famous for riches, seems to have agreed 
w ith much of the Asiatic (Indian) manner of build • 
34.59. Battle of Marathon. The Persians defeated by 490. 
the Greeks, principally the Athenians; -who ac- 


^•^^- Ante A.C. 

quired much riches by the spoi'; and thereby be- 
came patterns to the rest of Greece in arts and ele- 

Xerxls destroys the temples of Greece, ex- 478. 
cept that of Diana at Fphesus. Destrovs also 
the temple of Belu.s at Babylon : and con^ erts their 
treasures to his own use. The Greeks suffer the 
temples to remain in ruins the more effectually to 
render odious the memory of the Persians; till 
after thebattle of Salamis ; when the teinpies ar-d 
towns began to appear with fre?h splendour, and 
the arts of architectureand iculpture especially, find 
"•reat encouragement. 
3479. The Arts encouraged in Sicily. 

Pericles governed Athens forty years: this 431. 
was the most illustrious time of Art ia Greece, 
especially the latter 20 years. Whatever could con- 
tribute to the ornament of his cit}', or could be exe- 
cuted b}' the ablest artists, this great man accom- 
plished : and some of his productions remain to this 
day for our admiration. 

During the war which preceded the death of Pe- 
ricles, Art was cultivated and respected ; and 
maintained at the Isthmain, and Olympic games, 
every four }-ears, a kind of exhibition of its chief 
performance. Phidias was the principal artist em- 
ployed by Pericles : his chief disciples were ^l- 
camcnes and Agoracritos. Theatrical representa- 
tions were popular, and celebrated with great at- 
tention. The sacred mysteries also were exhibited 
with great pomp, decoration, and expence. 

The Abbe Winkelman observes with justice, 
that this was a period Avhen the productions of 
ancient Art were less e:^teemed than those of present 
Art: whereas, af«er this time, however the Arts 
might flourish they constantly looked back tg excel- 
lencies superior to their own. 

The war of Peloponessus, which ended 404 years 

aate A. D. was fatal to Athens: as the jealousy of 

N 2 Sparta 


A.M. Ante A.C. 

Sparta despoiled, thougli it did not destroy, that 
city. Thrasybulus however repaired the da- 
mages ; but the allies of Athens sent the artisans to 
execute mucii of the woi ks. 

Epaminondas cir. 3S0 years, ante A.D. raised 
Thebes to the pre-eminence among the Grecian 
states ; and peace succeeded : but it was not of long- 

Phidovus the abtrnnomer brings the sphere, &c. 367. 
from £gypt into Greece. 

Artaxek-xes rifles Kgypt of its treasures, ]i-3G2. 
braries, &c. 

The bnttle of Mantinca produced p ace again 3G2. 
in Greece; and xvith it favourable times for Art. 
PravileleSy Euphranoi\, Zeuxis^ ParhasiuSy were 
the glorv of their times. Painphilus of Sicyon 
Avas master of Apelks: and Apcllcs^ under the 
patronage of Alexander, became the prince of 

Philip of Macedon, become the head of the 
Grecian states, though he cultivated the Arts, yet 
was addicted to war: his son Alexander suc- 
ceeded to his station, greatly encouraged Arts, 
and learning, lie himself practised design, and 
conmianded his officers to icarn the Art ; he pa- 
tronized ApelU'S the painter in a verv remarkable 
manner, Lijdppus the sculptor, and Pyrgotdts the 
engraver of gems: these alone had the privilege of 
representing Alexander: but that they actually 
monopolized his j)ortraitis not Jikely. 

Alexander, born ante A. D. 3o6. The 
Temjile of Diana at Kphesus burnt the same night. 

Destroys 'I'liebes, only sparing the house of Pin- 335. 
dar the poet. 

'i'akeb Tvre and conoucrs l\gypt. 332. 

Builds Alex.iiidiia in Kgypt; which he designed 
to render the centre of commerce to the. -estern 
world ; wherein he p.irtly succeoik d. The architect 
was Dinocralesy who rebuilt the temple of Diana. 



A.M. Ante A. C, 

Alexander takes Babylon. Dies. 323. 

It is evident, that historians liave been more occu- 
pied in relating the politicid events of the times, bat- 
tles, sieges, and revolntions, than in attending to the 
progress oi' Arts: we are therefore obliged to se- 
lect detached hints from various accounts, and to 
infer from the state of one science what was like- 
ly to be the repute of its fellows. We may cha- 
racterize This interval by remarking that 

The Asiatic empires seem to have maintained 
their pomp and magnificence in a higli degree, and 
for a long time, but we are unable to affirm that 
their taste was exquisite, or their principles cor- 

Egypt seems to have suffered prodigiously under 
successive ravages ; but it must have been im- 
mensely rich, or immensely commercial, to admit 
these ravages so repeatedly. I'hat the Arts suffered 
by them is notorious: but perhaps their losses were 
more easily repaired than those of learning and letters. 

Greece advanced to perfection by a combina- 
tion of talents, and of favour, not always the lot 
of artists. 

Rome thought of war only ; v.'ien it wanted Art 
it borrrowed from its neighbours ; usually from the 

It would be very easy to swell this list with names 
of artists, and titles of their v. orks, but as no ideas 
of their merits could thereliy be communicated, it 
seems beter to recoilect the general taste for in- 
creasing statues, pictures, gems, seals, &c. toge- 
ther \v\fh their rapid progress in merit, and to infer 
their value from the very great sums paid for their 
puiohasc , which, indeed, seems in sundry instances, 
very extraordinary. 




A.M. Ante A.C 

The death of Alexander whs succeeded by re-323. 
volts and bloody wars; and his kinj^dom was di- 
vided into four. Greece suflTercd; and the Arts 
suflered with her. The Atiienians took up arms, 
but were defeated at length. Cassander gwin^thcm 
for governor Demetrius Phakreus : he became so 
popular, that in the space of one year, onciumdred 
and sixty statues of bronze (iiouTC equestrian) were 
erected to his honour: but when Cassamlcr was 
vanquished by Demetrius Poliorcetes^ hardly had 
Demetrius quitted Athens, ere the people demolisii- 
ed every statue they had erected ; and even erased 
his name from the public inscriptions. At the same 
time they ordered statues oi gold to their new mas- 
ter. These were not times for genuine merit: 
but the number of artists must have been very 
great. Not long after this event, Art deserted 
Greece for Egypt. 

Ptolemy Soter received and welcomed Art Z2'S. 
and Talents : among others who sought an asylum 
in his dominions was Apclles. 

In Asia the Selucid.e, as well as in Egypt 3 12. 
the Ptolemies received the fugitive artists of 
Greece: but Art did not here yield equal fruits in 
point of excellence. 

Under Ptolemy Philadelphus Alexandria284. 
became another Athens ; the celebrated Pharos or 
light-house was erected : A prodigiously valuable 
irmseum was also furnished. 'Ihe superb procession 
of worki of Art which this prince exhibited, con- 
tained hundreds of statues; and in a great pavilion 
were exposed one hundred sculptures of animals, 
executed by the greatest masters. Egyptian Art 
r.ow became so much Greecianised, that it never 



A, M. Ante A. C. 

resumed its ancient style : hardly even in its sacred 

The Achaian league, was an exertion of li-220. 
berty : but the fury of the combatants in the war 
which it produced, demolished all the productions 
of Art in their power ; whether honorary to great 
men, or sacred to the gods themselves. 

Sicily afforded shelter to the Arts at this time: 
and Bithynia and Perganios yet superior protection 
and encouragement. 

Agathocles from having been a potter, became 
a king; and seems to have had a relish for Art: 
he ordered a picture of a combat of cavahy in 
which he had been engaged, and placed it to pub- 
lic view in the temple of Pallas at Syracuse : the 
picture was greatly esteemt-d, and carried to Rome 
by Morcdlus. 

HiERO II. from a simple citizen became a mag- 
nificent Iving. Sicily during his reign enjoyed 
profound peace. 

About this time golden cups and vessels were fre- 
quent : the city of Naples sent forty to Home at one 

In Pergamos Eumenes and Attalus higiily263. 
encouraged Art and bestowed benefus on many 241. 
cities. Sicyon expressed its acknowledgments by 
erecting to Attalus a colossal statue placed in 
public by the side of Apollo: and to Eumenes most 
of the cities of Peloponessus erected statues. 

About 194 years ante A. D. Greece was in 
peace ; and the Romans who had greatly contributed 
to that peace having politicly declared the freedom 
of Greece, Art again revived and produced works 
not unworthy of its best times — but the Roman 
policy at length disunited the Greek cities, a civil 
war ensued, and issued in the destruction of Corinth, 
ante A. D. 146. From this city Lucius Mum- 
Mius the Roman pretor carried off the vases, 
iitatues, pictures, &c. and destroyed the city to the 



A. M. Ante A. C. 

sound of trumpets ; Greece now became a Jio- 
inan province under the name of Achaia. The Ro- 
mans had received from the spoils of Antiochus, 
ante A. D. 189, the first taste for Art and Asiatic 
luxury, but the spoils of Corinth procured them the 
most numerous and most valuable soecimens. Af- 
ter th;s the Grecian cities in ganerai were stiipped 
of their choicest works of Art. 

Antiochus Epiphanes in S3'ria retarded the 115. 
total failure of Art, by his munificence and his li- 
berality to various citii.'s, but his reign was 
onlv eleven years. After this,Art languished where- 
ever it had been cultivated ; and though man}^ excel- 
lent ivorks remaininG^ from former times could be 
pointed out in various places of ^jreece, of Syria, 
and of Kgypt, yet they could only shew what suc- 
cess Art bad formerly eiijoyed, and thereby furnish- 
ed n strikincr contrast to its actually depressed and 
enfeebled >tate. 

As tl)e Ron)an power gradually increased, Art 
and artists gradually assembled in Rome. Syl- 
LA ruined Athens, ante A. D. 86. Lucul- 
Lus by his victories over Mithridates, ante 
A. D. 69, became immensely rich and immense- 
ly luxurious. The extravagance of Cleopatra 
in Kgypt is well known. Julius Caesar, though 43. 
deeply engaged in Avar, yet patronized the Arts, 
and the good fortune of Augustus, which en- 
abled him to maintain his empire long in peace, 
was highly Invorable to those studies whose dread 
is war, and which only cr.n prosper beneath the fos- 
tering care of public tranquillity. 

Augustus reigns at llotne. 31. 

Anno Domini. 

Augustus dies, i3. 




A. M. Ante A.C. 

3236. Nu MA forbad to rcpi-esent the divinity under a 714. 
human form ; prolxiblv therefore little employment 
forsculpture: th re being neither statues, norimages 
of Gods, for 170 years, in the temples of Rome; 
whatever n)ight be elsewhere in that city. 
:i3'S6. 7'arquin the elder, brought an Ktruscan artist614. 
to model an Olympian Jupiter : also Cleophan- 
TKs the painter, from Corinth. 

Statues at first, under the republic, limited to 
three feet high. 

Etruscan artists employed Olymp. 121. Art now 
becoming honorable, the Romans themselves be- 
gin to practice it. — Not\Yithstanding which, Greek 
paintings were in request. 

Ihe first Greek works of importance were 
brought to Rome by Marcellus, ante A. D. 
cir. 200. after t'le taking of Syracuse. They were 
employed to decorate the Capitol. L. Quinctius199. 
having vanquished Philip, king of Macedon, 
brought a vast number of works of Art from 
Greece ; which he exposed daring three whole days 
of his triumph. "i'he spoils taken from ^nti- 
vchus in Sjria, fdled Rome with immense booty, 
and introduced the ideas of Asiatic magnificence. 170. 
Greek artists still in repute. — I'his custom of car- 
rying to Rome all that was esteemed of works of 
Art became so general, that by decrees, Rome 
monopolized all that could be procured ; and their 
original proprietors were left destitute. Rome did 
not yet produce native artists to rival these pro- 
ductions. They first employed their captives ; and 
from these thev learned the principles of Art. 

Syli.a ruined Athens cir. ante A. D. 86. and 
carried to Rome even the columns of the temple 
of the Olympian Jupiter. While Art was thus de- 

Vol. IV. O part 2 stroyed 


A. Nfc Anil- A. C. 

stroyed in Greece, it revived in Rome ; Init not, at 
first, with anv greut vijror. Sylla however en- 
cOuraged it, hv building sumptuous edifices ; and 
others ims tilted him. 

Julius C-^esar distinguislied bims-elf while 
youns;-, and a. private citizen, by liis njajrnificence, 
and Jove for the Arts ; and when arrived at the em- 
pire, (in 43 ante A. I).) he made great collections 
of all kinds of works, and employed many ar- 
tists by his buildinprs, and their ornaments. 

Tlie latter victories of Lucullus, of Pompfy, 
and of Augustus, brought to Rome many cap- 
tives, among- others, capable of works of Art, 
while the expectation of success, and employment, 
drew to Rojue other masters of repute from Greece, 
so that at this period artists were numerous, and 
their principles were proportionally spread and 

A. D. 

Augustus died A. D. 14. He great!}' favored 14. 
the Arts ; purchased the a\ orks of the best old mas- 
ters ; ornamented the public places with statues j 
seems '^o have had an Inspector of Statues. Many 
portraits of him, busts, and figures remain. 

Marcus Agrippa, and Mecenas, patronized 
Art. Many edifices built. 

Tiberius employed the arts but little: some 
capable masters remained, but few are known. 

Caligula mutilated many statues, by taking off 
the heads, to insert portraits of himself. Robbed 
the cities of Greece, &c. of their best works to 
bring to Rome. 

Claudius alTccted to promote letters ; but Avas 
ionorant of true merit. 

Nero coveted the works of great masters; he 54. 
built very extravagantly : had colossal figures n)ade 
of himself; tlespoiled Greece of all he could pro- 
cure ; famous for his golden house. 

Galea to Vespasian — "I'urbulent times: Arts 
in suspence. 



A.M. AD. 

Under Vespasian the Arts flourished ; he formed 69. 
a noble gallery of pictures; embellished his palaces 
and gardens with works of Art. 

1 iTUs endeavoured to revive and maintain the 
splendor of Art; but unhappily reigned only two 

Do^fITIAN, Nerva. — 

Trajan encouraged Art and artists ; built very 9S 
sumptuous edifices: erected many figures, arches 
of triumj)!), and other decorations, 

1 Adrian patronised Art; is said himself alsolH. 
to have practised Art, to have made a statue, and 
to have designed buildinos. He built much in 
Greece; encouraged others to patronise Art : his 
villa most nobly ornamented ; his mausoleum very 
superb; he caused many ancient works, Egyptian, 
&c. to be copied, and imitated. His time produc- 
ed many of tiiose statues which now we admire as 
monuments of ancient Art. 

CoMMODUs suffered the Arts to languish. 

Three Emperors in one year previous to 

Septimus Severus ; the public edifices erected \Q3. 
by, and after him, manifest the decay of Art. 

Caracalla affected to encourage the Arts ; 
but by the violence of his manners did them no ef- 
fectual benefit. 

Heliogabalus — a glutton. 

Alexander Severus loved the Arts, andlet-22U 
ters ; from this time the Arts of Painting and 
Sculpture continued to decay : Architecture still 
maintained its esteem ; and produced buikhngs, at 
least as rich and magnificent as heretofore; it seems 
to have flourished while its sister Arts failed, as 
well as after them. 

After this period the character of the empire was 
instability : the same was the character of Art: ne- 
vertheless buildings of various kinds wen'e erected, 
and especially by 

Dioclesian, who not only built magnificent 
2 Thermae 


A.M. A.D. 

Thermaj at Rome, but also a superb palace at 

CoNSTANTiKE removed the seat of empire to 3 12. 
CotistJintinople ; naving restored peace to the em- 
pire, he endoitvoured to cultivate Arts, and letters; 
he procured many statues from various parts, to 
ornament the Hippodrome at Constantinople ; and 
though Art produced few great names, yet it en- 
joyed peace, and was tranquil, if not splendid. 324. 

After this serenity succeeded troubles ; false zeal 
destroyed many of the noblest temples, and oiher 
objects of worship, images, &.c. sometimes by the 
concurrence of authorit}', sometimes by tumult. 

Alexandria taken, and its library destroyed, by 
the Calipli Omar, 637. 

Many of the works of Art were removed 
from Rome to Sicily ; where they were after- 
wards taken by the Saracens ; others that were 
at Constantinople were preserved for a longer time ; 
at length they also became a prey to enemies ; but 
some were carried off to Venice, by Baldwin, 
who took Constantinople, in the beginning of the 
13th century — what remained were seized by thtf 
Turks, 1453. 

Ihe taking of Constantinople was the last 
blow in the destruction of ancient Art : yet by this 
event the men of learning Avhich it contained being- 
dispersed and driven into Italy, they became the 
means of reviving letters, and liberal studies, in the 
West: after which the Arts once more re-originated, 
and from hence we may date their progress in mo- 
dern times. 




JVhose Names or Works are kjwzvn : or whose Nd?/ics 
occur in Books, or on their Performances. 

Agasias of Ephesus, autlior of the fighting ghidiator/at 
Rome. No date. 

Agathangelus, a. in'honcr \xui\fi\- Jug list us, hisuaincon 
a Cornelian rejjresenting Sextus Pompcy. 

Agi LADAs of Argos ; master oi Polijclttus. Olymp, 95. 

Agenor, after the battle of Marathon. Olynip. 67 to 75, 

Agesander of Rhodes; author of the Laocoon. 

Agoracritos of Paros ; Sculptor, disciple of /^///(/w^. 

Alcamenes of Atliens ; .Sculptor, disciple of Phidias. 
Olymp. 87. 

AlcAjMEnes, nnAcv ylugustus, of Rome; prisoner, his name 
is on a small bas relief, in the villa Albani. 

Anteus, Sculptor. Olymp. \55. 

Angelion, disciple o^ J)ipaiie 3.n(\ ScyUis, 

Athermus, Sculptor. 

his son, Sculptor. 

Antigonus of Pergamus ; Sculptor, he wrote on the sub.- 
ject of his Art. Olymp. 141. 

Antiochus of Athens. 

Apelles, one of the most celebrated painters of antiquity, 
was born in the isle of Cos, and flourished in the time oi Alex., 
under the Great. He was in high favour with this prince ; who 
forbade any other to paint his picture but Apelles : in one of 
his portraits, Alexander Avas represented holding a thunder- 
bolt in his hand : the piece was finished with so mucli skill that 
it used to be said there were two Alexanders; one invincible, 
the son o^ Philip; the other inimitable, the production oi Apelles, 
Alexander gave him a remarkable proofofregard: when he em- 
ployed Apelles to draw CampaspCy one of his mistresses, having' 
found that he had conceived an afiection for her, he resigned 
her to him ; and from her Apelles is said to have drawn his 
Venus Anadyomene, {i. e. vising from the sea.) This prince 
went often to see Apelles at work ; one day, Avhen overlooking 



him, be is said to have talked so absurdly about painting, tbat 
Apelles desired him to be silent j telling hiiii that tbe very boys 
who mixed the eolors laughed at him. It seems however ex- 
traordinary, if not incredible, that u^pelles should use such an 
expression to Alexanderi or tliat Alexander, who had so good 
an education, and so fine a genius, should talk so impertinent- 
]y of painting. Alexander, we arc told, having seen one of 
his pictures by Apelles, did not commend it as it deserved : a 
little time alter, a horse happened to be brought, which 
neighed at sight of the horse painted in the same picture: u])- 
on which Apelles is said to have observed, " this horse under- 
stands painting better than his Majesty." One of Apelles's 
chief excellencies was the resemblance of his pictures to t!ie 
persons represented ; insomuch that physiognomists were able 
to form a judgment as readily from his portraits, as from the 
originals. His dexterity at a likeness was of singular service, 
in extricating him from a difficulty wheren he was involved 
at the court of b-gypt : he had not the good fortune to be in 
favor with Ptolemy: a storm forced him, however, to take 
shelter at Alexandria, during the reign of this prince ; Avhere 
a mischievous fellow designing to injure him, in the king's 
name invited him to dinner. Apelles went, and' seeing the 
king in a prodigious passion, told him byway of excuse, that 
he should not have come to his table but by his order. He 
was conmianded to shew the man who liad invited him; 
which was impossible, tlie person not being present : Apelles, 
however, drew a sketch of him on the wall with a coal, the 
first lines of which discovered him immediately to Ptolemy. 
Ti;e following story is also related of him. Having heard of 
the fame of Protog< nes, he sailed to Rhodes to visit him : but 
finding him absent he took a tablet, and drew therein a deli- 
cate line. Prologeties at the sigiit of it, exclaimed, " Apelles 
liath been here;" and he himself drew a second line, with 
another color in the midst of it, and left it. Apelles upon his 
return drew a third, so correct, as left no possibilitv for im- 
provement; which when Protogenes saw, he confessed he 
had met both with his match and master, and went to seek 
Apelles. 'J'his tablet was kept for a long time, and esteemed 
beyond any rich or curtous work : it destroyed by fire 
in tlie palace of desanjix the Palatine hill. 



Apdlcs left many excellent pictures, which are mentioned 
rvith honor by tiie antients ; but liisVenus Anadyomene 
IdJj reckoned his master-piece. This picture in the lower 
ipart of it was hurt by some mischance ; but no painter would 
•iundertake to repair t!ie same, to make it equal to the rest. 

Apollodorus, Painter, master ot £euxis, lived in the 
viinety-third Olympiad, brought tlie pencil into great esteem. 
*0f his pictures are mentioned a priest at devotion, praying 
nnd worshipping; another of ^'aj:" in flames by lightning. To 
;5j)eak true, says Plinij, before his days there can hardly be 
shewn a tablet which any man would take pleasure to look 
long upon. 

Apolodorus, a f<imous architect under Trajan and Adri- 
iffi!, was born at Damascus; had the direction of that most 
magnificent bridge, which Trajan built over the Danube, in 
the year 104. He also constructed the Forum Trajanum at 
Knme. Adrian^ who valued himself highly on his knowJed'ye 
Oi arts and sciences, and hated every one of whose eminence 
in his profession he was jealous, conceived a very early dis- 
afiection to this artist, on the following occasion : as Trajan 
was one day discoursing v.ith Apolodorus on his buildings at 
llo aie, Adrian gdiVQ. his judgment ; but very erroneously : 
the artist, turning bluntly upon him, bid him '* go paint Ci- 
triils, for he knew nothing of the subject they were talking of:'* 
no»/ Adrian was at that time engaged in painting Citruls, and 
even bo;iSted of it. This was the first step towards his ruin ; 
which Apolodorus was so far from attempting to retreive, that 
lie iidded a new offence, after Adrian was advanced to the 
empire. To shew Apolodorus that he had no occasion for him, 
Adrian sent him the designs of a temple of Fcnus; which was 
actually built. Apolodorus wrotehis opinion freely, and found 
suc^ essential faults in it, as the emperor could neither deny 
or uemedy: observing that it was neither high nor large 
enoi![gh ; that the statues in it were disproportioned to its bulk : 
for, said he, '< if the goddesses should have a mind to rise and 
go otit, they could not do it." Tliis vexed ^r/r/an,and prompt- 
ed li'm to get rid o^ Apolodorus. He banished him first, at last- 
had him put to death; not setting forth the true cause, of 
which he would have been ashamed, but under the pretext of 
several crimes, of which he got him accused and convicted. 



Appolontus, of Athens, Sculotor. Olymp. 155. Author 
of tlie famous Torso of Hercules. 

Appolontus and Tauriscus, authors of the Furnese Bull. 

Sieil'an Scul;;tors. 

A ppoi.oK'u^', of Priene, author of the apotheosis oi Homer ^ 
in the Pallazzo.ColonMa at Rome. 

Arcesilas, friend oi Luc alius ; his models were bouj^ht by 
artists at liigher jiricesthan the finished works of otiier masters 
Iij made a Venus f.;r Casar^ which was taken awaj unfinished. 

Ardicks, of Corinth ; supposed to have improved the Art 
of Paintinj; greatly: one of the most ancient Greek Painters. 

ARisTiDEs,the'ihehan,wasthefir:>t who expressed accurate- 
] V the couv editions of the mind, its inward dispositions ynd ac- 
tions, the very perturbations and passions of the soul ; but his 
colormg- was unpleasant and harsli. He painted the taking of 
atovvii byassault, wiierein wasan inl'ant creepingto the breyst 
of its mother who lay dying by a wound received in thatpait: 
the poor woman's atiection IS stated to have been expressed 
very naturally in this picture, manifesting a certain sympaljiy 
and tender affection to her child in the midst of her dyiig 
pano-s. This tablet yiiV.rowt/tr^/ii^ 6' /re/ translated from Thebes 
to Pella. He painted a. fight of an hundred Greeks and Per- 
siajis, and sold it to Manascn, the tyrant of Elate, for ten 
pounds of silver for every head therein. King Altalus ;dso 
gave him for one tablet, one hundred talents of silver, 

Aristocles, ! ,'0 years after Dipcene and Scyllis. Sculptor, 
at Sicyon- 

Aristodeaius, Artist under Septimus Severus. 

Aristomkdes andSocRATEs, Sculptors. Ol3nip. 71 tc73. 

Aristomedon, of Argos. Olym[). 47. 

Aristocles, of Cydonia in Crete. Olymp. 20 to 24. 

Aj'.timedorus, father oi\'Jppo/o)ui(s and Tauriscus. 

Ascarus, disci'plc cS Agehidas. 

AscLLPiODORUs, Painter, master of Zeuxis; attempt©:! tlie 
po'.vers of light and shade : was richly paid for his works and 
V as admired by yipelles himself for his singular skill in iccu- 
ntc symmetry and just proportion : he painted for the king 
oi the Klarans the tw(;lve principal gods, and received for 
joery one of tiicm three hundred pounds of silver. 



Atheneus, Sculptor. Olymp. 155. 

Athenodorus, son oi Agesandtr, assisted in the Laocoon. 
Anaxagoras, of E'gina, before the expedition oi Xerxes 
into Greece. 

Bathycles, of Magnesia, made the cup consecrated by 
the seven sages of Greece to the Delpliic Apollo — about the 
47th Olympiad. 

Br-Yaxis, iiis master-piece in brass was a man greivously 
wounded, fainting, and ready to die ; this he expressed so 
exquisitely that one might perceive how little life and breath 
wtis left in him. 

BuLARCHUs, a Painter, lived in the ISth Olmpiad. One 
of his pictures representing a battle, was bought at its weight 
in gold. 

l^upALUs, son of ^////^^TWM^ the old. 

Calamis, Sculptor : excellent at horses, ante 77th Olynip. 
He made chariots drawn with two horses, and others with 
four : for workmanship in horses, he had not his equal : that 
he might appear to possess the like Art in human statues, he 
made one of Alcmena, so exquisitely wrought, that no man 
could set a better piece of work by it. 

Callimachus, Sculptor and Architect, said to have first 
composed the Corinthian order — rather he first applied the 
Acanthus in the capital of columns^ whose proportions he 
established into the Corinthian order. 

Callistrates, b-'culptor. Olynip. 156. 

Callixemes, Sculptor. Olymp. 155. 

Callonus, of Egina, Sculptor; disciple of Tecteus: lived 
to he very old, and even to outlive Phidias. Olymp. 90. 

Callokus, of Elis, Sculptor; was somewhat prior to the 

Canachus, of Sicyori, contemporary to Callonus of Egina, 
about the 95th Olymp. Scholar ai Polycletes. 

Cephissiadorus, son of PraxiteleSy Sculptor. 

Cephissodotus, Sculptor. Olymp. 102. 

Chares, statuary, disciple of Lysippus^ immottalised him- 
self by th-e colossus of the sun at Rhodes, which was reckoned 
one of the seven wonders of the world. This statue was of 
brass, above 100 feet high ; and placed at the entrance of the 
harbour at Rhodes, with the feet upon two rocks, in such a 

Vol. IV. P part 2 manner, 


manner, that ships could pass in full sail betwixt them. Chares 
employed 12 years upon it ; alter standing 66 years it vas 
thrown down by an earthquake. Moavius, a caliph of the Sa- 
racens, who invaded Rhodes in 667, sold itto a Jew merchant, 
%vho is said to have loaded 900 camels with the materials of it. 
[Some personshavedoubted the accuracy of this relation: pro- 
bably it did not stand in the outward harbour.] Ihe thumbs 
and great toes of it were so big that few men were able to 
embrace one of them ; bigger than the most part of other 
Avhole statues and images: the workmanship cost three hun- 
dred talents, given by King Demetrius. 

Chartas of Lacedemon. Olym. 60. 

Cleanthes, a very ancient painter of Corinth. 

Cleophantus before 40 Olymp. went to Tarquin in Italj-, 
and taught Paiiitaig as practised in Greece. 

Clearchus of Rhegio, disciple oi Euchirus ; Pxjthagorus 
studied Sculpture in his school. 

CoLOTHES, assisted Phidias in finishing his Jupiter Olym- 
pus at Elis, the statue was 60 cubits high, composed of gold 
and ivory. 

CoNON Cleoneus, perfected the art of paint' ng, which 
before his time was but rudely and inartificia.Iy exercised ; 
his pictures were sold at a price above any other arti>t's in 
t'lat age wherein he lived : he was the first who attempted to 
foreshorten figures. 

Criton, Sculptor, under Augustus. 

Ctesilaus. Sculptor. Olymp. 87. 

Cydias, ri pre.-ented the Argonauts, that attended Jason in 
his expedition to Colchis : llortensius the orator paid for this 
piece one hundred and forty-four thousand sesterces, and 
shrined this picture in an oratory or chapel, built on purpose 
for it, in a pleasure house that he had at Tusculum. 

Dameas. Olymp. 60. Made at Elis the st«tue of Milo 
the Crotou'an, who, while his hands were confined in the 
cleft of a tree, was attacked by a lion. 

Damophoon, of Messina. Olymp. 97. Repaired the 
statue of Olympian Jupiter at Mis. 

Dedalus. It is not easy to determine wlicther there were 
not more artists than one of this name: nor to reconcile the 



accounts transmitted to us, if they relate to the same person. 
Diodonis Siculus has given us the largest account respecting 
him ; but beside the comparatively late date of this author, 
there seems to be some considerable difficulties in his story. 
He says, book 1. sect. 2. *' That Dedalus hnWt, in i* gyp^ the 
wonderful vestibule of the temple of Vulcan at Memphis : a 
Avork which acquired him so grcatglory that his statue in wood, 
made by himself, v/as placed in the temple: that he even ac- 
C|U'red divine honours, and a temple in one of the islandsnear 
Memphis was dedicated to him, and grcatlv venerated." — How 
js this consistent witli the idea of a young student, who went 
into Egypt to learn his Art, and whose mode of representing 
figures would have been thought irreligious by the Egyptians? 
It seems credible however, that he might propose to imitate 
the labyrinth of the {Egyptians, and perhaps might construct 
in Crete, many years afterwards, some small building resem- 
■Jjling it. 

In Book IV. Diodonis gives us a history of Dedalus at large, 
but confessedly mingled with fable. 1 he truth seems to be 
thus — Dedalus was an Athenian by nation, and of the noble 
family of the Erecthtides : his father being Hymetion, son of 
Eupalarnus, and grandson of Erechteus. Dedalus surpassed all 
men in Sculpture — he gave also very useful rules for perfecting 
the Art — his works were admired in Various parts. His fi- 
gures were said to see — to be alive : — which indeed, they were, 
compared with t!ie mummy-like figures hitherto in use. — But 
if Dedalus had great merit — he had also great crimes : — among 
other scholars he took his nephew Talus under his discipline 
when a child, but the scholar became more skilful than the 
master ; for Talus invented the potter's wheel, the saw, (the 
hint of which he is said to have taken from the teeth of a ser- 
pent) the turning lathe, and many other useful implements in 
the Arts : Dedalus through envy killed him — was condemned 
— and fled to Crete ; where he was employed by Minos: but, 
contributing to the mtu^nes, oi Pasiphae^ wife oi Minos, with 
Taurus, he fied from Crete in a small vessel ; to wdiich he pro- 
portioned the quantity of sail so happily, that he made a safe 
and speedy passage to Sicily ; while his son Icarus, who ac- 
companied him in another boat, by using too much sail, over- 
set his vessel, and was droAvned. Dedalus remained long in 




Sicily, ai)d embeljisiied tliat island by his works, as well pwh- 
lic as private, under the protection of Cocalus its king. He 
dug near Megaridos <ipiscina through which the river Alabon 
discharged itself into the sea ; he built on the top of a rock an 
impregnable citadel where afterwards stood Agrigcnfmn : he 
rendered a cavern in a territory of Selinuiituni a conveni- 
ent vapour-bath to promote perspiration : he enlarged the 
summit of mount Eryx, by supporting the earth w ilh a wall : 
and he accomplished many other works of Art and ni^rit. 

Minos is said to have sougiit Dcdalus in Sicil}- ; and there 
to have landed troops, but to have fallen by the treaclicrx- of 

It seems then as if we might depend on the following as 
facts, — that ])edalus M'as an Athenian — that prompted liy 
love for liis Art he visited Kgypt, where probably he staid 
someyears , — that he returned to Athens, v,«here he practised 
and gre.iLiy improved his Art; — t'jat he fled from Athens to 
Crete;— iroin Crete to Sicily: — and that according to the 
works he performed, he was many }ears in each of these; 
islands : he must therefore have reached a very advanced age. 
It is probable however, that these events relate to more than 
one person ; perhaps of the same family, who assumed the 
name Dedahis in remembranpe of their famous ancestor: or 
perhaps the Egyptians might give the iM'.me J )edalus to Artists 
of a particular department ; and this might be retained by 
more t;.an one who had studied in that coiuitr}*. 

Democr-itus, of Sicyon, Sculptor. 

DiNOCRATEs, a celebrated architect of Macedonia, of whom 
several extraordinar}' things are related. Vi'l )-uvius telhui^, 
that, A'.hea Alexander the Great had conquered all before him, 
J)iiwcrates, full of great coi:ceptions,and relying upon them, 
went from Macedonia to the army, with a view ot recommend- 
ing himself to his notice and favour. He carried letters recom- 
mendatory to the nobles about him, who received him very 
graciously, and promised to introduce him to the king. But 
either thinking them slow, or suspecting that they had no de- 
sign to do it, he resolved at length to introduce himself; and 
for this purposeconceived the following project. He assumed 
the character of y/rrf«/t.?, anointed his body with oil, crowned 
bi-s temples with poj)Iar, flung a lion's skin over his left shoul- 


fler, and q^rasped a club in his right-hand. Thus accoutred, 
he march( d forth, and appeared in the court, where the king 
^vas administering justice. The eyes of the people were na- 
turally turned upon to striking a spectacle, for striknig he 
was, being very tixll, very well-proportioned, and vervhai)d- 
some : this moved the king to order him forward, and to a,k 
him who he was. *' I am," says lie, " Dinocratcs the Macedo- 
nian Architect, and bring to your majesty thoughts and de- 
signs worthy of your greatness ; I have designed Mount Athos 
in the form of a man, in whose left hand 1 have placed a sjreat 
<Mtv, all the rivers of the mount flow into his right, and from 
thence into tlie sea." Akxamkr seemed pleased with his de- 
sign, but, after some little debate, declined putting it in ex- 
ecution. However, lie kept the architect, and took him into 
l\gypt, where he employed him in marking out and building 
the cit}' of Alexandria. Another memorable instance oi Di- 
nocrattii's architectonic skill is his restoring, and building, ia 
a more august and n)agnificent manner than before, the cele- 
brated temple of Diana at Ephesus, after Herostratus, for the 
purpose of immortalizing his name, had destroyed it by fire. 
A third inst.t nee more extraordinaryand wonderful than either 
of the forager, is related by Pliny in his " Natui-al History;'* 
who tells us, that hesuggested ascheme, by building the dome 
of the ten^plc of Arsinoe at Alexandria of loatistoue, to sus- 
pend her image (all of iron) in the middle of it, as if flying in 
the air ; but the king's death, and his own, hindered him from 
proceeding far, if at all, in the design. It is not impossible 
this hint might be the foundation of a similar story respect- 
ing the body of Mahomd. • 

DiNOMEKES, Scul})tor. Olymp. 94. 

DioGNETEs, Painter and Philosopher, tar.ght drawino- to 
Marcus Aurelius. 

])i0NYsius, of Argos, Sculptor. Olymp. 71. to 73. 

DioNYsius, son of Timarchides, Sculptor. Olymp. 102. 

DioscoRiDEs, Kngraver of heads of Augustus, 

DiPCEKE and Scyllis, Sculptors. About Olj-mp. 20. to 20, 
established the Sicyonian Sc-ool : were extremeh* famous in 
their days : and following generations reaped the benefit of 
their skill and reputation. 

DoRYCLiDAs, a Lacedemonian, disciple of Diposne and 



DoNTAs, disciple of Dipoene and Scyllis. 

Eladas, of Argos. Olymp. 71. to 73. Master of P^?'<^wi. 

EucHiRAs, of Corinth. After Olymp. 60. Disciple of 5y- 
adras and Chartas. 

EuDocus, one of the scholars of Dedalus. 

EuMARUS, Painter, ap[)lied himself to the study of charac-r 
ters and distinction of sexes. Lived little after the beginning 
of the Olympiads. 

EuFHRANOR. Olymp. 104. Of the isthmus of Corinth. 
Was an excellent Sculptor and Painter, and flourished about 
362 5'ears before Christ. He wrote volumes of the Art 
of coloring, and of symmetry : yet is said to have fallen into 
the same error with Zeuxis, of making his heads too big, in 
proportion to the other parts. His conceptions were noble an4 
elevated, his style masculine and bold : and he was the first 
who signalized himself by representing the majesty of heroes. 
He was, says Pliny ^ the antlior of that statue of Pcrw, the 
excellent ait and workmanship whereof represented to the 
eye all at once, a judge between the goddesses, the lover of 
Helen, and yet the murderer pf Achilles. 

EupOMPUs of Sicyon, master of Pamphtlus, master of 

EvANDER of Athens in Augustus's time, a follower o{ Mark 

EvoDus, Engraver in precious stones, under Tiius. A.D. 

GiTiADAs, a Lacedemonian. Sculptor, Architect, and 
Poet. Before the Mesenian war. 

Glaucias, of Egina. Ol\ nip. 71. to 73. 

Glaucias, a Lacedemonian Sculptor, livedbefore the wara. 
of the Lacedemonians against the Mesenians. Olymp. 9. 

Glaucus of Argos. Olymp. 71. to 73. 

Glycon, of Athens, author of the Hercules Farnese. 

Gnaios, prisoner from Asia (Ionia) probably: his name is 
to a head of Hercules in the cabinet at Strozzi, Rome — on a 
precious stone. 

Hegesias, Sculptor, perhaps author of the group of Cas- 
ior and Pollux^ at Komc. 

Hegias, of Athens. Sculptor. Olymp. 95. 

Hypatodok, Sculptc^r. Olymp. 102. 

Laphaes of Phliasia, at>out Olymp. 47. 



Learchus of Rhegio, disciple of Dipccne and Scylh's. 

Leochares. Sculptbr. Olyrrjp. 102. 

Leontius MTouglit in hrass,^.sf7//os, the famous runner, ia 
a race ; Aviiicii was highly Cbtcenjcd at Oiynipia : also tlie por- 
trait of one that iseeined lame ; and to halt by reason of an 
ulcer: but so naturally done, that as many as beheld it, 
seemed to have compassion and fellow-feeling with him of the 
pain and suffering of liis soie : this was seen at Syracuse. 

Lysanias, Sculptor. 

Lycius, of Ekuthera, famous for a figure of a boy blow- 
ing a fire. Olymp. 87. Disciple of Myron. 

Lysias, made Apollo and Diana, in a chariot dawn by four 
liorses, all of one piece : it appears how highly it was es'-eemed 
by the honourable place w herein it stood ; for Augustus 
Ccesar, to the honor of Odavius his fatiier, dedicated it in 
JVIount Palatine, over a triumphant arch there. 

Lyssippus, a celebrated Statuary, was a^native of Sicvon, 
and flourished in the time of Alexander the Great. He was 
bred a locksmith, and followed that business for a wliile ; but, 
by the advice of lupo)npus, a painter, he applied himself to 
painting, which, hov. ever, he soon quitted for sculpture, in 
which he succeeded perfectly well. It is said that he asked 
Eupompus *' what pattern he had best follow of all the work- 
men who had gone before him ?" he shewed him a multitude 
of people, and tcid him, " he should do best to imitate Na- 
ture herself." He executed bis works with more ease than any 
of the ancient masters, and accordingly finished more works 
than any of them. The statue of a man wiping and anointino- 
himself after bathing was particularly excellent : Agrippa 
placed it before his baths at Home. Tiberius, v/ho wascharmed 
with it, could not resist the desire of being master of it, when 
he came to the empire : so that he took it into his own apart- 
ment, and put another very fine one in its place. But, as much 
as that emperor was feared by the Roman people, he could 
not hinder them from demanding, in a full theatre, that he 
would replace the first statue, and so vehemently, thathefouud 
it necessary to comply with their solicitations, in order to ap- 
pease the tumult. Another of Lyssippus''s capital pieces was a 
grand statue of the sun, represented in a drawn by four 
horses ; this statue was worshipped at Rhodes. He made 



also several stiitues of Jicxandev and Iiis favorites, wl^ich 
•were brought to Home by Me'tellus, after he had reduced the 
Macedonian empire. He particuhiily excelled in the hair of 
his heads. He alone had the privilege to represent Alexan- 
der. He WHS tiie founder of the colossus of Hercules at Ta- 
rcntum, Avhichwus iorty cubits higli. He had three bons, 
who were uli ins disciples, and acquired great reputation in 
the Art. 

Lystratus of Sicyon was the first that in plaster or alabas- 
ter took oifthe face in a mould ; Avhich image he afterwards 
copied in wax : nor staid he there, but began to make the 
very likeness of the person ; before him every man studied 
to make the fairest faces, liot sufficiently regarding ^^ helher 
they wore like or no. 

Malas of the isle of Chios, his son Micciades, his grandson 
AniheDiius : a family of Artists from the first Olympiad to 60, 
when a descendant named /)7i/;a/i/5 was Sculptorand Architect. 

Melanthus, Painter, scholar of Paviphilus. Olymp. 90. 

iVjEMNOK, of I'gypt ; Sculptor. If not rather the name 
of the statue. 

Menechml's, Sculptor, of Naupactus, cir. Oh-mp. 95. 

^sIenecrates, Sculptor, master of yJ polio ii his and Taiins- 

IMenelaus, disciple of Stephanus, autlior of the group in 
the villa Ludovisi, called Papirius and his mother. 

Mekestratus's Ileirides, says Pli»]/j was in high admira- 
tion, as also his Hecate, which stood in a chapel at p]phesns, 
'nehind the great temple of Diana; the wardens of whicii 
cliapel warn those who come to see it, not to look loo long 
u})on it, for fear of dazzling their eyes, so resplendent w as 
the polish of the marble. Olynjp. 15."). Painter and Pliilosophcr. 

TilicciADEs, s;>n oi' Malas of the isle of Chios. Olymj). 20. 

rviNESARCus, I Engraver in precious stones; au Etruscan 
Artist: the only one whose name is known. 

Myron. Olymp. 87. 

Mys, a Sculptor or Chaser \p. silver, j^rlncipally of mytho- 
logical subjects. 

Naucides, cf Argos. Scnlpti-r. Olymp. 94. 

Nicias, of At!i'Mr-., disciple of .Ivti'iiotus, Sculptor and 



I'.iiiiur. He exceedingly delighted himself in his profession 
of iniintint^; and was so intent upon it, that when he painted 
Necija, he frequently ibrgot to eat, and asked his servants, 
" whether he had dined, or not r" When this incomparable 
piece of art was finished, king Ptolemy sent to purchase it of 
iiini at the price of sixty talents ; btit lie refused to part with 
it, though for so vast a sum. 

NicoLAus, of Athens, v^'culptor. 

NicoMACKUs, son ?iudi i>c\\o\iiY oi Ai istodemus. Painter, 
cotemporary of ylpcl/cs. 

Onatas, son of Mycon of Plgina; before tlie expedition 
of \erxi'.s. 

Pamphilus, Painter. Olymp. 104, A Macedonian : was 
the (irst of painters skilled in arithmetic and geometr}', with- 
out Avl)ich he judged it impossible to be a perfect Painter: he 
was renowned for drawing a confraternity of kindred, the 
hattkt fought before PA///«-,and the victory of the Athenians, 
llctaught none undera talent of silver forten years together : 
and thus much paid Apelles and Melanihus to learn his art. 

Paralus, son of PohjdcteSy Sculptor, not equal to his fa- 

Parrhasius, son and disciple of F.venor. Olymp. 104. 
A celebrated Painter of Ephesus, or, according to others, 
of Athens : iic flourished in the time of Socrates^ if Ave may 
credit Xeiwphoii, w ho liath introduced him in a dialogue dis- 
coursing with that philosopher. He was one of the 
most excellent Painters in his time. Pliny says, that he first 
gave symmetry and just proportions to his art ; that he also 
first knew how to express the truth and life of characters, and 
the different airs of the face ; that he studied a beautiful dis- 
position of the hair, and heightened the grace of the counte- 
nance. It was alloweti bj'mastersin the art, that he exceeded 
«ill others in a graceful correct outline. But the same author 
observes, that Parrhasms\iQ.Q.-ei?cvQ insupportable by his pride; 
and was so swelled with vanity, as to assume the most flatter- 
ing ei)it!jets; such as, the tenderest, the softest, the grandest, 
the most delicate, and the perfecter of his art. He boasted 
that he was sprung originally from Apollo^ and born to paint 
the gods ; that he had actually drawn 7/(era</d.y touch by touch: 
that hero having often appeared to him in his dreams. When 

Vol. IV. 2 part 2 the 


the majovity of voices was iijrainst him ;it Samos in favour of 
Timanthcs, on the subject of a picture of *' Jjax provoked 
against the Greeks, for adjudgino toVhssesihe arms of Achil- 
Jes" he answered a person who condoled liim on this check, 
" For my part, I don't tronhlemyself at tlic scnt^'nce ; l)ntam 
*' sorry the son of Tclanwn hath received a greater outrage 
" than that which was formerly put upon him so unjustly." 
JElian^ who relates this story, informs us that our painter af- 
fected to wear a crown of gold on his head, and to carry in 
his hand a baton, studded with nails of tiie same metal. 

He worked at his art with pleasantry, and for t!)e most part 
Avith singing. He was unhappily licentious in his pictures; for 
instance InsAfa/aniiSy witli her spouse 3A7.-a^d-/-, which piece 
being uiterw ards devised as a iegacy to the emperor Tihti iiiSy 
upon condition that, if he was displeased with it, he shoidd 
receive a million of sesterces instead of it, the emperor, co- 
vetous as he was, not onlv preferred the picture, but even 
placed it in iiis most favourite apartment. It is said also, that 
though /'(i/rr/i^A'/a.^wasexcelled by Twian/hts, yethe excelled 
ZtiLvis : wliich story is thus related. He was bold enough to 
challeoge Zcuxis for the victory in his art: Ztux'is exhibited 
a tablet wherein clusters of grapes were so cliarmingly repre- 
sented, that the birds came to peck at them. Pan luisius had 
only painted a curtain, but so accurately, that Zeuxis said to 
him, " Come Sir, away with 3-our curtain, that we may see 
your goodly picture." But perceiving his error, he was con- 
founded, yielded him the victory, and said, '* Zeuxis hath be- 
guiled poor birds, hut Pair/iasius hath deceived Zeuxis, a pro- 
fessed artist." 

Pasi TELES of Greece, citizen of Rome, under Augustus : 
worked principally in relief, on sdver ; made a capital JupittT 
of ivory, which /VZ/^j/saw in the p<ilace oi Mcttllus. He wrote 
on the f .mous works of Art, five books. 

Patr'CLUs, Olymp. 95. Sculptor. 

PAUbius, Painter, his pictures ^old at great prices. 

Pauson, Painter : an ancient master. 

Peonius, Sculptor, of Mendeum inThrace. 

Phidias, the most famous Scidptor of antiquity, was .in 
Athen'an, and contemporary of P</7V7("^, who flourished in 
the 83d Olympiad. This wonderful artist was not only con- 


sunimate in the use of his tools, but accomplished in those 
sciences and branches of knowledge, which l)elong to his pro- 
fession : as histoiy, poetry, fable, geometry, oj)tics, &.c. He 
first taught the Greeks to imitate nature perfectly ; and all his 
"vvoiks were received with admiration. I'hey were also incre- 
dibly numerous ; for it was almost peculiar to Phidia.s^ that he 
united the greatest facilit}' with the greatest perfection. His 
Nemesis was ranked among h's first pieces : it was carved 
out of a block of marble, vvh'ch was found m the camp of 
the Persians, after they were defeated n the plains of Mara- 
thon. He made an excellent stiitue of Minerva ft)r the Pla- 
teaus ; but the statue of that goddess at Athens, in her magni- 
ficent temple, (of \\hich there are still some ruined remains,) 
was an astonishing production of Art. Pcrules, who had the 
care of this stately edifice, gave orders to Phidias^ to make a 
statue of the goddess; and Phidias formed a figure of ivory 
and gold, thirty-nine feet high. Upon tlie swelling round of 
the shield of this goddess, he engraved the batlle wherein the 
Amazons were defeated by Theseus; in t'le lower part he 
chased the conflicts between the gods and the giants ; on the 
shoes the figiit betwixt the Centaurs and Lapitiise; on the base, 
or pedestal of the statue the genealogy of Pandoia, and the 
nativities of the gods, to the number of thirty, and among 
them the goddess Victory, of most admirable workmans'iip; 
with a serpent and sphinx of brass, under the spear t!iat Mi~ 
furva holds in her hand, adm'red bv all. Writers never speak 
of this illustrious monument of skill without raptures ; yet 
what has rendered the name of the artist immortal, proved 
at that time his ruin. He had carved unon the shield of the 
goddess his own portra't, and that of Pericles ; and this was, 
b}' those who envied him, made a crime in Phidias. He Avas 
also charged with embezzling part of the gold which was de- 
.signed for the statue, but from this he cleared himself by 
taking off the gold ; when ir was found to be of the same 
weight as lie had received. Upon this, he withdrew to F'lis, 
and avenged himself on the ungrateful Athenians, bv makmg 
for this town the Olympic Jupiter; a prodigv of Art, and 
which was ranked among the seven wonders of the world It 
was of ivory and gold ; sixty feet high, " The majesty of the 
" work did equal the majesty of the God," says 2uintiUian ; 

2 2 " and 


" and its beauty seems to have added lustre to the religion of 
" the country." P h id I'a s concladet] his labours with this mas- 
ter-piece ; and the Elians, to do honour to his memory, 
erected and appropriated to his;nHlants, an office, \vhicl» 
consisted in keeping clean this magnihcent image. 

Philoxenus painted a tablet for king Cassandei\ contain- 
ing the battle betwixt ylhwander the (rvcat and Darius ; which 
for exquisite art was not inferior to any other whatever. 

Palemon of Sicyon wrote a treatise on the works of An 
in that city. 

PoLicLEs, Sculptor. Olymp. 155. 

Pol VOLES, Sculptor. Olymp. 102. 

PoLVCLETUs, Oljnip. 87, the Sicyonian, made that which 
■workmen called the Canon ; that is to say, one consummate 
and perfect figurefroni whence artificers might studv symme- 
tries, and proportions, as from a perfect rule, which guides 
anddirects them in their work. He made a Diadumenusm brass, 
an effeminate young man, with a diadem about his head : a 
piece of work much spoken of, for it cost an hundred talents. 

PoLYDORUs, author of the Laocoon, probably lived about 
the age of Alexander. 

PoLYGNOTUs,Painter,famousforgloomy subjects: whereby 
he seems to be strongly distinguisl)cd from Polygnotus, the 
l^Jiasiaiiy who was the first that painted women in shewy and 
light apparel, with their head-dresses of sundry colours. His 
invention it was to paint figures with themouth open, to make 
them shew their teeth ; he also represented much variet\' of 
countenance, far different fiom the stiiVand heavy look of for- 
mer times. He also adorned the great gallery of Athens with 
the history of the Tojan war : and being recjuested bv Alpi- 
nicc, the daughter of Mi//iades-, to paint her among the IVojan 
women, he did it so t^xqnisitely, that she seemed to be alive. 

Praxiteles, Scidptor in bronze antl marble. Olymp. lOJ. 
His /^"(t^/^Ui', which he wrought for the town of Gniilos, surpassed 
all statues that ever were made; and was indeed so exijuisite, 
that many have sailed to Gnidos for no other |)urpose but to 
behold it. King Nicoviedes offered to free their city of all 
debts (which were great sums) for this piece of work; but 
they resolved not to part with it. 

Protogenes, Painter, was a native of Caunas, a city of Ca- 
ria, subject to the llhodians. Who was his father or his mo- 



ilier, is not knoun ; but it is probalile he bud no other master 
than the public pieces be saw; and perhaps liis parents, be- 
ing poor, couldnot beat any such expence lor his education in 
tlie art, as was customary at that time. It is certain he was 
obliged at first to paint ships for his livelihood : but his am- 
bition was not to be rich ; his aim being solely to be master 
of his profession. He finished his pictures with too great 
care : ylpellcs said of hiin, he knew not when he had done 
enough. The finest of his pieces was the picture o^ Jalyssus, 
mentioned by sev(u-al authors, without giving any description 
of it, or telling us who this Jalyssus was: some persons sup- 
pose him to have been a famous hunter, and the founder of 
Rhodes. For seven years that Protogenes ^xoxkad. on this pic- 
ture, all his food was lupines wixed with Mater, which served 
him both for meat and drink. It is said that after seven years 
spent upon it, he remained still chagrined, because, hav- 
ing represented in it a dog panting and out of breath, he 
was not able to express the foam at his mouth; which vexed 
him to such a degree, that in anger he threw his sponge against 
it in order to efface it, and this luckily produced by chance 
what his art could not effect. [The samegood luck, it is said, 
liappened to Neocles the painter, with the foam of a horse.] 
He wasof opinion that his simpleand lightnourishment would 
leave him the freedom of his fancy. Apdks was so struck 
with admiration of this piece, that be could not speak a word ; 
liaving no expression to atiswer his idea. It Mas this same pic-i 
ture that saved thecity of Rhodes, when besieged by king De- 
metrius ; for, not being able toattack the town but on that side 
where Protogenes worked,he chose rather to abandon his hopes 
of conquest, than to destroy so fine a piece as that of Jalys&us. 
Every body knows the story of the contest between Proto-. 
genes diVxA Apelles. This latter, hearing of the reputation of 
Protogenes, went to Rhodes on purpose to see his Morks. On 
his arrival there, he found in the house nobody but an old wo- 
man : who, asking his name, he answered, " I am goino- to 
write it on the canvas that lies here ;" and, taking a pencil 
with color on it, designed something with extreme delicacv. 
P/vfogenes coming home, the old woman told him what had 
passed, and shewed him the canvas ; he then attentively ob- 
serving the beauty of the lines, said it was certainly ApcUes 
who had been there, being* assured that no one else Avas able 



to drawan}^ tiling so fine. Then taking another colour he drew 
on those lines an outline more correct and more delicate ; after 
Avhich he went out again, bidding the old woman shew that to. 
the person who had been there, if he returned, and tell hinx 
that was the man he enquinnl for. Apelles returning, and be- 
ing ashamed to see himself outdone, takes a third colour, and,, 
among the lines that had been drawn, lays sonae with somuch 
judgment, and so wonderfully fine, that it took in all the sub- 
tlety of the art. Protogenes^SiW these in his turn ; and, con- 
fessing that hecould not doi)etter, gave over the dispute, and 
ran in haste to find out Apelles. 

Pliny, who tells this story, says he saw this piece of canvas 
before it was consumed in the fire which burnt down t!ie em- 
peror's palace; that there was not!)ing upon it but some llnesy 
■which could scarce be distinguished; and yd this fragment 
was more valued tharj any of the pictures among m hicli-it was- 
placed. The same author goes on to relate, that Apelles ask- 
ing his rival what price he had for his pictures, and Protoge- 
nes naminir an inconsiderable sum, accordinij to the sat! for- 
tune of those who are obliged to work for their bread ; Apelles^ 
concerned at the injusticedone to the beautyof hisproductions^ 
gave him Hit}' talents [equivalent to 10,0001 sterling,, a sum 
large enough to be incredible, were we not told that Apelles 
had twice as nuich for his own pieces] for one picture only^ 
declaring publicly, that he would make it pass and sell it for 
his own. '1 his generosity opened the eyes of the Rhodians 
as to the merit of Piotogenes, and made them get the picture 
Apelles hiid bought out of his hands, paying down a much 
greater ])rice for it than he had given. 

Pliiiij also informs us that Protogenes was a Sculptor as well 
as a Painter. He flourished about the 1 ISth Olympiad, and 
308 years before Ciirist. Quintilian, observing the talents of 
six famous painters, says, Protogenes QxcaWeAm exactness, 
Pampliilus and Melun/lms in the disposition, Anfiphilus in 
easiness, T/ieon the Samia;i in fruitfniness of ideas, and Apel^ 
les in grace and ingenious conceptions. 

Pyrgoteles, a famous Kngraver of precious stones ; co- 
temporary with Lysippus; had also an exclusive privilege of 
representing Alexander. 

Pyromachus, Sculptor, of Pcrgavius. 


List oe ancient artists. 1)9 

Pythagoras, of Rheglo, cir. OlyiDp. 87, treated hair with 
^reat nicety and freedom. 

Pythias, Sculptor. Olynip. 155. 

Pythocles, Sculptor. Olymp. 155. 

Pythodotqs, of Corinth. Olynip. 47. 

SATYRiuSjin Kgypt, under Ptolemy, Kngraver in crystal. 

ScYLLis and Dipoene, established the Sicyonian school. 

Scop AS, of the isle of Pares, said to have decorated part of 
the tomb of MausoLus : this tact uncertain; as he must have 
been extremely old. Olymp. 87. Pliny mentions in the chapel 
•of Cn. Domitius in the circus of FJaminius, Neplune, Thetis, 
aird her son Achilles ; the sea-nymphs, or nereids, mounted 
upon dolphins, whales, and sea-horses; the tritons, with all 
the choir, attending upon PAo/rw^ a sea-god ; and the mighty 
fishes called Prisles, besides many other monsters of the sea ; 
all of them wrought by him so curiously, that had he been 
occupied in making them all his life-time, and done nothing 
else, a man would have thought it work enough. 

SiMOK, of Egina, before the expedition of Xerxes. 

Smilis of Kgina,son of Euclidus: one of the most ancient 
of Sculptors : he worked in wood. 

Socrates and Aristomedes. Olymp. 71 to 73. 

So:DAS;Cir. Olymp. 95, of Naupactos. 

SoMis, before the battle of Marathon. 

Sosus, of i^ergamus, excellent in Mosaic works. 

Stephaxus, Sculptor, famous for figures on horseback. 

Stomius, before the battle of Maratiion. 

Stratonicus, of Pergamus. 

Syadras, of Lacedemon. Olymp. 60. 

Tauriscus and Appolonius, authors of the Farnese Bull, 

Tecteus, discipleof Z>//Ja?«f and&^///5; di%i\stedAngelion. 

Telephanes of Sicyon, supposed to have improved the 
Art of Painiing greativ. 

Theodorus, who made the labyrinth of Samos, cast his 
own image in brass, which besides the resemblance of him- 
self, was embellished with such other devices, that it was much 
renowned : in his right hand he had a file ; in his left he 
bore with three fingers a little chariot, with four horses, but 
both the chariot, horses, and charioteer, were couched in so 



imall a compass, that a little fly, which he also made with the 
rest, covered all with her wings. 

Theon did many pieces wherein he discovered tlie excel- 
lence of his art; among the chief was that of a man with his 
sword in his hand, and his shield stretched out before him, 
ready prepared for the fight: his eyes seenied to sparkle with 
fire, and the whole iVame arid posture of his body was repre- 
sented so threatening, as of one that was intirely possessed 
with a martial fury. 

Theomnastes, Painter, cotemporary of Apelks. 

TiMANTHEs, had an excellent genius, full of rare inven- 
tion : he painted the famous picture of Jphigenia^ wherein 
was represented that innocent lady standing by the altar to be 
sacrificed : in this subject he painted Chakhas the priest look- 
ing sad, {/{ysscs sadder, but her uncle Menclaus full of ex- 
treme sorrow : having in these personages spent all the signs 
whereby the pencil is able to express grief; and being yet to 
exhibit her father Agamemnon, he covered his countenance 
■with a veil, leaving to the imagination of the spectators, to 
conceive his inexpressible grief at beholding his daughter 
bathed in her blood. He painted a Cyclops lying asleep, and 
little elvish Satyrs by him with their thyrsi taking measure of 
one of his thumbs. But his picture of a prince was thought 
to be most absolute ; the majesty whereof was such, that all 
the art of painting seemed comprised in that one picture. 
TiMARCHiDEs, father of Polydts and Dion\jsius, Sculptor. 

I'JMOCLES, Sculptor. Olynip. \bb. 

TiMOMACHus, the Byzantine, flourished in the days o{ Ju- 
lius Casar, for whom he painted Ajax and Medea ; for which 
pictures he paid him eighty talents, and hung them up in the 
temple of J^cnus; his pieces of Orestcsiind Iphigeniaaxe much 
praised ; but especially he is renowned for his Medusci's head, 
which he painted in M inerva' s ^\y\e\(\. Me remained in Greece, 
and did not, as many masters theii did, come to Rome to settle. 

Xanthippus, son of Poljjdetes ; not equal to his father. 

Zenon, of Approdisius, Sculptor. About Trajan's time. 

Zemon, of Stciphrys. Cir. same time. 

Zenodorus, Sculptor, time oi Ncvo. He composed a pro- 
d'^iouscolossus ni Meniiri/, at Auvergnc in France; tenyears 


he was about it, and the ^vorkmansl)ip came to four hundred 
thousand sesterces. Ntro sentfor him to Rome, where he cast 
(as a portraitof iVe'?'o) a colossus an hundred and ten feet bi^b, 
but that emperor being dead, it was dedicated to the houour 
of the sun. 

Zeuxis, a very famous painter, flourished about 400 years 
before Christ, or about the .9 .^-th Olympiad. Tally ^ Phiii/, and 
Julian, agree in aflSiniing that he was of Heracha, yet they 
have not, among the numerous cities of that name, told us 
the Heradca in which Zeuxis was born. Pliuij represents the 
art of painting, as carried to considerable perfection by this 
Painter. Some autliors relate, that he found out the manner 
of disposing lights and shades ; and he is allowed to have ex- 
celled in coloring. Aristotle censured as a defect in his paint- 
ings, that the manners or passions were no expressed in them : 
nevertheless Plimj declares the direct contrary with regard to 
the picture oi Penelope; "in which Zeuxis" says he, " seems 
to have painted the manners." 

This painter amassed immense riches ; and once he made a 
shew of them at the olympic games, wliere he appeared in a 
cloak embroidered Avith gold letters expressing his name. 
When he found himself thus rich, he would not sell his works 
any loriger, but gave them away, and declared frankly, that 
no price could be set upon them. His Helen was the picture 
Avhich obtained the greatestcredit. Before he had left off selling 
his Avorks, he used to make the people pay for seeing them ; 
but he insisted always upon ready money for shewing his 
Nele^i : " Avhlch," says yFlian, " gave occasion to the Avags 
to call her Helen the courtezan." Hedid not scruple to Avrite 
underneath this picture the three verses of the Iliad, in Avhich 
Homer represents Priani and the venerable sages of hiscoun- 
cil confessing that the Greeks and Trojans were not to blame 
for having exposed themselves to so many calamities for //e- 
len ; her beauty equalling that of the goddesses. It cannot 
be determined, Avhether this Helen of Zeuxis be that which 
he painted for the inhabitants of Crotona, to be hung up in 
the temple oi' Juno : of which Cieero tells us this story. When 
the people of Crotona had prevailed upon himto come among 
ihem, in order to paint a numberof pictures, with which they 
intended to adorn tliis temple ; he told tlieni, that he intended 

Vol. IV. R part 2 to 


to draw the picture of II den ; with which they 'were ex- 
tremely well satisfied, knowing that his chief excellence lay 
ill paintinp- women. For this purpose he desired to see the 
niobt beautiful girls of their city : and the magistrates giving 
orders for the maidens to assemble, that Zcuxis might choose 
as he thought fit, he selected five ; and, copying t'le greatest 
excellencies of each, drew from thence the picture of Helen. 
These five maidens were greatly applauded by the poets, 
their beauty having been preferred by him, who was justly 
considered as the greatest judge of beauty; and theirnames 
accordingly did not fail of being consecrated to posterity, 
although they are not now to be found. 

Many curious particulars are recorded of thispainter beside 
his dispute with J'urrhasiiis for the prize in painting. He 
painted a boy loaded with grapes, when the birds flew again 
to this picture; at which he was vexed; and frankly confessed, 
that it Avas not sufficiently finished ; since, had he painted the 
bov as perfectly as the grapes, the birds would have been afraid 
of him. Archdaus^ king of JNIacedon, made use of Zeuxi^ 
pencilfor the embellishment of his house ; upon which Socrates 
made this reflection, as it is preserved by yJLlian. *' Archdaus^'' 
said he, " has laid outa vast sum of money upon his house, but 
nothing upon himself: whence it is that numbers come from 
all parts of the world to see his house, but none to see him ; 
except those who are tempted by his money and presents, and 
who will not be found among the worthiest of men." 

One oi Znivii s^XiQ.'it pieces was a Hercules strangling some 
dragons in his cradle, in the presence of his frighted mother : 
but he himself esteemed chiefly his Athleta or Champion, 
under which he made a verse that became afterwards famous, 
viz. " that it would be easier to envy, than to imitate that 
picture." It is probable, that he valued his Alcmena^ since he 
presented it to the Agrigentines. Fie did not set up for a 
swift painter : he used to say to those who reproaciied him 
■with slowness, that " he was indeed a long time in painting, 
but that it was also to last a long time." We are told that 
2euxis, having painted an old woman, laughed so heartily at 
the sight of this picture, that he died. This circumstance is 
related by Virrius Flaccus, under the word Pu/or; but is pro- 
bably fabulous. 

ZoPYRus, time of Pompcjj. 






StJpposED Progress of Sculpture. 

This Plate endeavours to shew, from actually existing mo- 
numents, somethinicy of what may be supposed as the course 
of improvements, and additions, made in sculptures of tlie hu- 
man figure. 

No. I. — Is a mummy, entirely void of hands and feet, or 

any parts; and were it not for the head, and its dress, little 

superior, as a representation, to a simple stone. It is in Mont- 

faucoiUs Antiquite Expliquee, Pi. cxii. T. ii. fig. 1. From 


No. II. — Is also a mummy ; hut being an attempt at more 
explicit designation, this has hands, perhaps for the purpose 
of holding somewhat of the nature of a symbol. 

No. III. — This mummy has no arms; but the attempt at a 
disjunction of the legs is very evident ; and forms another step 
towards a figure. Montfaucoii, PI. cxi. T. ii. fig. 6. 

No. IV. — Is a kind of drapery mummy; this shews the 
dress, and somewhat of the foldings of the drapery ; though 
certainly to no advantage. 

No. V. — Is an instance of Avhat is called a term : and is 
much posterior in its idea to the former. The feet are expli- 
cit, and well determined ; and it has more the appearance of 
a person holding before him a tablet for inscriptions, than of a 
mummy: notwithstanding the arm^^ and front of the body are 
concealed by the tablet. 

No. VI. — A TERM of another kind: the places where the 
arms are to be added, very evident; this terna might receive 

M 2 the 


the addition of arms, on occasion, but not legs. From the 
Aniiqtddis of Htyculancum, Vol. iii. p. 180. 

No. VI f. — An Egyptian advance toward a figure ; the atti- 
tude of the arms as indicated under the drapery ; and the 
hands hold each of them a symbol. 

No. VIII. — An elcfiant term : of a kind long in use. 
Tliis is inscribed as a j)o)trait of Elia Patrcphila : this kind 
of term is (occasionally) as useful and beautiful as a statue ; 
and by no means so expensive, nor so liable to injury. In a 
garden, walks, ccc. they have a very good effect. Fiom the 
Museum Capitol Inum (at Rome.) 

j>y;o_ JX. — A term Ilercuhs : a variation from the former, 
vet preserving the same idea: and Ijolding as a symbol the 
head of liie lion, in whose skin the figure is clothed. From 
the Muscuvi Copitolinum. 

The first row of these figures may well be called dead r 
for tiiough different in <ome things, they agree in having nei- 
ther life, nor motion : they may bring to remembrance Egyp- 
tian deceased ancestors. 

The second row of figures shews that art has been tamper- 
ing with them ; and endeavoring to render them subservient 
to its purposes of embellishment, perhaps of utility. 

The third row of figures shews the success of art : that 
liowever unpromising its first essays might be, yet genius and 
application liave surmounted their difficulties, and produced 
works of merit and elegance. 




Egyptian Sculpture. 

. The former plate shewed at most half-figures, or an ap- 
proach to a figure, this plate oflPers an idea of the progress of 
a Avhole figure; and shews how succeeding artists ti'eated the 
same subject, according to the art of their times. 

No. I. — Is the profile view of an undoubted Egyptian fio-ure, 
in which we remark its almost perpendicular uprightness ; the 
union of its legs, tiie downright position of its arms, and the 
unanimated direction of its countenance. This figure however, 
being in the character of an attendant on another statue, re- 
presenting its superior in rank, might, possibly, be supposed 
to preserve the posture of respect and reverence, if such at- 
titudes wert; not altogether Egyptian. From the plates of 
Norden's Designs in Egypt: it is marked (a) in No. V. and 
is an attendant on the seat of one of the colossal statues now 
standing near Carnac i the ancient Thebes : not far from the 
palace and sounding statue of Memnon. 

No. II. — In this Number the .Artist was under the necessity 
of giving some action to his figure, to enable her to hold the 
staff; but he has been, as it were, reluctant, and as sparing 
as possible, of every thing like motion. The hand not em- 
ployed, hangs down, with perfect stiflfness ; the hand which 
projects, projects at right angles, no less stiff; the drapery is 
motionless also. It is from the famous Isiac Table now at 

No. III. — Is a side view of a very capital Egyptian statue, 
■whose proportions andexecutiondemonstratea masterlyband : 
which yet has preserved the same prmciples of attitude as 
former figures, with but little variation. It is true this figure 
has some pliancy in its body, its head is less stiff, its arms not 
quite so downright, and its legs better placed; 5'et perhaps 
these were regarded as liberties ; notwithstanding the artist 
made the figure as stiff and antiquated as his genius and bet- 
ter skill would suffer him. 



It is worth while just to observe the situation of the feet in 
these three figures: in the first, they are perfectly parallel ; 
in the second, one foot is about half a foot's distance behind the 
other ; in the third, one foot is about the whole length of a 
foot behind the other. Perhaps there is scarcely any truly 
Egyptian figure in which this distance is exceeded. 1 he 
original figure is at Rome. 

No. IV. — Is a front view of the same figure as No. III. it 
was probably meant to stand with its back against a wall, ra- 
ther than in a niche. It is taken for the Fgyptian God Avcr- 
rtincus; and has an hieroglyphic inscription on its girdle: 
which determines it tobeofconsiderabieantiquity ; otherwise, 
its merit might refer it to some Greco-Egyptian master. 

No. V. -tA specimen of P^gyptian sitting figures ; in which 
the parallelism of the parts is striking : the legs are parallel, 
the thighs parallel, the arms, the shoulders parallel : yet this 
was a great work ; and must have cost the labour of much 
time. It is one of the colossal figures (50 feet high) sitting 
near the palace of Memnoiiy near the ancient Thebes, in 
Egypt : it is greatly ruined by time. 

No. VI.— Another Egyptian sitting figure ; representing 
the goddess Isis in the act (as I suppose) of blessing her wor- 
shippers : in this figure is action, no doubt, but the action 
has little pretensions to grace and dignity. From the Isiac 
Table : this is the centre and principal figure. 

No. VII. — Another Is is in her full dress ; as ready for re- 
ceiving worship. Accordingto the usage of sculptures repre- 
senting Egyptian female figures, this has one hand on her bo- 
som; the other hanging down, perhaps holding some part of 
her drapery; but the whole certainly not many degrees ad- 
vanced toward animation. The original is at Home. Vidt^ 
Montjaucon, PI. cvii. T. ii. fig. 2, 3. 

No. Vlll. — Is an Is(s of Italian workmanship ; which, be- 
ing erected in the temple of Isis at Pompeii (overwhelmed by 
a volcanic eruption about A.D. 19.) at such a distance from 
Egypt, and so late in time, the artist has availed himself of 
those liberties which time and place permitted in favor of his 
art. It is probable thatthough art has gained, religion, strictly 
speaking, mightbeconsidereil as having lost by the difibrence; 
and that a more exact transcript of the primitive statues, would 



have been thought more correct, and more sacred, by those 
skilled in such matters; which, perhaps, happily for the artist, 
"vvas the case of few, or none, at Poynpeii ; the priest excepted, 
who seems to have practised the rites of his worship as used in 
Egypt, and who died in his duty, (within his sacred precincts 
at least) unmoved by the destruction of his idol and his temple. 
From this figure, the artist has discarded all the preposter- 
ous though typical head-dress of Jsis, as being utterly inca* 
pable of beauty, and has bound her hair in a simple fillet 
only, but he has been obliged to preserve the down-hanging 
arm, which graceless position he has disguised by placing the 
sacred water vase in that hand ; he has also been obliged to 
elevate the other hand, level with the elbow, therefore into 
this hand he has put another sacred symbol ; he has also been 
forced to dress her in a simple muslin robe, but this he hat 
thrown into folds, according to the course of the parts; he 
has also been forbid to move one foot too much before the 
other, but by covering the hinder foot by the drapery, this 
rule is preserved, yet variety obtained. In fact, this figure 
is at once according to rule and according to art: at once 
like and unlike, to No. II, above it : of which it is in one 
sense a copy, lint certainly in every sense, a distant copy. 
The original is in the king of Naples's collection oiHerculO' 
neum Antiquities. 




As I have never seen representations of Egyptian Paint- 
ings which might be depejuied on us accurate, I am under 
the necessity of referring to those copies and imitations which 
have been so happily recovered from the ruins oi' Ilerculantiim: 
these are in every probahihty Greek performances, and only 
copied by the painter as near as his better sense of art would 
let him. It is true the figureshave no great motion, but they 
have more than a truly Egyptian picture ought to have ; at 
least in sacred subjects, such as these : the feet are too distant 
from each other, the hands liang down, but not precisely on 
the body; or they are stretched out, but not at right angles. 
Those of the first plate are, indeed, stiffer than those of the 
second ; for in the latter there is in fact a kind of freedom, and 
vivacity, which shews a mixture of better art ; and that grace- 
ful conceptions were not \inknown to the author. Thev are 
selected from the Ant'ujuitics of lltrcidancum, Vol. iv. PJates 
69, 70. 

It is curious to observe the colours of these figures, which 
therefore I translate. 

A. Of this figure the cap is green, its ornaments yellow ; 
as also the lappet which falls on the shoulder : that which falls 
behind is whiti.h; as is also the sleeve, with red stripes. 
The whole dress from the breast to the waist is blue ; the flap 
is yellow ; the rest which covers the thigh is green, with yel- 
low stripes ; the naked of the thigh and leg is red ; as are 
also the left arm, and hand, which holds a yellow disc, with 
something on it not distinguishable. The face and right arm 
ai'e white. 

B. Is damaged in the original picture: it is therefore partly 
composed by the help of another. The right hand and arm, 
with which it holds (perhaps a sistrum) are yellow ; as also 
that leg : the girdle is white j the rest of the habit blue. The 
left hand and arm are white. 

C. has all the naked of the face, arms, hands, legs, and feet, 
blue: the covering of the head, and the whole dress, is red 
in the shades, and yellow in the liuhts ; what he holds \f\ his 



left liaiul is yellow: also what he has in his right hand: but 
neither is distinguishable. 

D. has the countenance and neck white ; also the left arm, 
and leg. The cap on his head is red, its ornament yellow ; 
the lappet which falls from his head to his shoulder is green 
striped with 3-elIow. The vest has four cross stripes; the 
first red, the second yellow, the tiiird light red, the fourth 
p-reen ; and green is the interior border of the same. 

The long stripe on the breast, and the two at the neck are 
red ; the whole light part to the girdle is white : the narrow 
band which descends before, is yellow: the ornaments on it, 
red. The piece which covers the breech is red, the rest of 
the dress is green, with yellow stripes. The right arm and 
leg are blue. The sistrum and bucket are yellow. 

E. The seat is yellow. Of the head-dress the ground is 
red, the ornaments yellow. The hair (if it be hair) yellow 
also. The lappets from the head to the shoulder are white j 
that part of the dress which covers the right arm to the el- 
bow is blue ; as also that behind. The piece Avhich covers 
part of the thigh is red ; as also, that which covers the left 
arm to the elbow. The rest of the habit is red, except the 
flap, or apron, which is yellow. The countenance, the 
naked of the right arm and hand, and right foot, is white, 
the naked of the left arm, hand, leg and foot, is blue. The 
staflP is yellow. 

F. The seat is green, the ornaments, yellow. The coun- 
tenance^ and all the naked of the left part is wliite. The 
cap is green, with yellow ornaments: tl>e hair, yellov.r : the 
dress which covers the lefr arm to the eil)Ow, green, with 
yellow ornaments: the piece covers the breech is 
yellow also, the flap is white. The rest of the habit red. — 
The right hand, arm, and iep-, are blue. 

It is likely onlv symbolical subjects were thus unnaturally 
treated : but while such cnstonis were tolerated m any ^.ub- 
jects, the art of colouring could not llounsh. For the rest, 
the remarks already made on the statues may suflice in legard 
to these pictures: as nio-t probably the progress of the / rts 
was much ttie Scime, as well in regard to period and time, as 
to manner and exei-ut.on. T he same vv«''rkott'ersa few ».^:p- 
tian views, &c. of confused composition, but clear enact. 

Vol. IV. S part 2 PLATE 



With intention to communicate to our readers a more cor- 
rect idea than can otiierwise be obtained, we liere offer them in 

No. I. — An ELEvATip^i of the Antonine Column, where- 
in the disposition of the windows, their position in tlie spiral 
line which runs round it, the ornampnts of the Capital, the 
gallery, and the figure, are all worthy of attention. 

No. II. — A SECTION of this column : whereby the inter- 
nal structure of it, tlie course of its winding ascent, and the 
disposition of its windows, may be remarked; they appear to 
be placed on opposite sides ; and though small on the out- 
side, the less to disturb, and interfere with, the ornamental 
figures, yet they are enlarged within, and by widening con- 
tribute to disperse the light which they admit. 

No. III. — As the idea of an historipal column has been 
adopted here, in the instance of the Monument at London, 
(which pillar is fluted, not enriched with figqrps, in the 
shaft) we have thought it might be acceptable to shew the 
proportions of these columns to each other by the three lines 
in the centre of this plate, A. B.C. 

A, is the height of the Trajam Column : about 145 feet 
from the level of the pavement. 

B, is the height of the Monument at London. Avhich is 
202 feet from the pavement. 

C, is the height of tlie Antonine Column, about 16Q 
feet from the pavempnt. 


As the Pyramids of Egypt are undoubtedly among the 
most ancient instances of the art of building, \Te have endea- 
voured in the following plate to convey as distinct ideas as 
possible of their disposition and construction. 

'I'he lower compartment on the plate annexed, shews their 
relative situations, and so much as remains of the temples, 
and other accompaniments, around them, bv consideration of 
which, their original design may be the better ascertained. 

As I conceive that the expression in Herodotus, " pyrotnis 
after pyromis^'' means a great man after a great man ; so I 
suppose the Egyptian word /77/;y/w/? was a i^opular expression 
adecjuate to the " great work" or building: which name they 
still retain. — Might they not in some respect resemble our ca- 
thedral churches ? 




It appears, that in front of the great pyramid, arc three 
smaller ones, on a line before it, corresponding perfectly to 
its front, and to the terniinatian of the causeway (well built 
of stone) which leads to it ; this caiisewa}^, therefore, seems 
to have served as an avenue to the smaller pyramids, as these 
smaller pyramid.* stem to be attendants on the larger. In 
front of the second pyramid, almost adjacent, is a temple, 
now ruined, and further off in front are tAvo small pyramids, 
on a line with the former small pyramids ; if there were for- 
merly other sniiill pyramids between tliem, tljis great pyra- 
mid would also have its attendarit smaller ones, l^o the third 
pyramid is a temple with a straight cansewa'; serving as an 
avenue. It seems clear therefore, tliat these great pyramids 
were not built as temples, since temples {i.e. wJierein to wor- 
ship,) arc built befon; them; that they were sepulchres is a 
general opinion, and the lomb within one of them which is 
opened, demonstrates it 5 but accounts say they were aedi- 
cated to the sun ; and so I suppose they were. My idea is, 
that they were built in honor of OstRis, who after his death 
was figuratively transferred to the sun : and the princes who 
built them, wished also to }>e buried in them, as the founders 
of our churches now do. It is hkely also, the same princes 
endowed the ten^ples with proper incomes, (as is usual now 
in foreign countries) and were pleased with the thouo-ht of 
sleeping where they might almost be thought to share the 
worship. The Sphynx is between thetv/o causeways, and di- 
rectly in front of the second pyramid. As it is not absolutely 
certain what <irp the materials of the solid part of these build- 
ings, it is possible they may be jiretty much cased with stone, 
and their unernal solid be brick; or like that of Caius Ces- 
Tius at Rome : or the internal structure of the Sepulchre of 
Cecilia Metella; if this could be determined, it might 
countenance the assertion of Josephus that these are the 
works of the Israelites; who"^ might make the brick, while 
the Egyptians were the builders and masons. A few leao-ues 
higher up are several, not much less ancient, made of brick 
only. It is related that the Pharoah who built this pyramid 
never was buried in it: was that truly because of his unfor- 
timate end in the red sea ? a circumstance which the Egyp- 
tian priests would not be forward to communicate to "fo- 

No. I. is the plan of the great pyramid ; shewing the di- 
rection of the passage and the central situation of the cham- 

No. II. 


No, II- is a section of tlje great pyramid; shewing tlie 
acclivity of the passage, and the situation of the two cham- 
bers; also the direction of a passage, Avhich runs to below 
the pyramid, but for what use is not known. 


View of the Pyramids near Memphis in Egypt. 

The principal pyramids are south-east of Gize, a villagt^ 
three hours' voyage up the Nile from Cairo, and situated on 
the western shore. As it is believed that the city of MerU' 
■phis was near this place, they are commonly called the pyra- 
mids of Memphis. Four of these pyramids deserve the great- 
est attention : there are seven or eight others in the neigh- 
bourhood, but not to be compared with the former, being al- 
most entirely ruined. The four principal are nearly on the 
same diagonal line, about 400 paces distant from each other. 
Their four faces exactly correspond to the four cardinal points, 
the north, the south, the east, and the west. The two most 
northerly are the greatest, and have 500 feet perpendicular 
height, and according to Mr. Greenes, who measured the 
bottom of the first, it is exactly 693 English feet square; and 
therefore covers something more than eleven acres ; the in- 
clined plane is equal to the base, and the angles and base form 
an equilateral triangle. The number of steps has been very 
differently related ; but they are between 207 and 212. — 
These steps are from two feet and a half to four feet high, and 
are broad in proportion to their height. But though the 
other pyramids are much less, they have some particularities, 
that cause them to be examined and admired. It appears 
that the rock at the foot of the mountains not being ever}- 
wherc level, has been smoothed by the chissel. This rocky 
plain is about 80 feet perpendicular above the level of the 
ground, that is always overflowed by the Nile, and is a 
league in circumference. 

'I'he most northern of these great pyramids is the only one 
that is open ; it is necessary to be very near it, in order to 
form a just idea of its enormous bulk. The external part ix 
chieHy built of great square stones cut from the rock, which 
extends along i\\e Nile, in Upper Kgypt, where to this day 
we see the caves from whence they have been taken. The 
siiie of the stones is not equal. 

end of part I. 





X HE vicissitude of human events has been a constant 
theme of declamation ever since their records have been 
collected : the history of ages is a history of revolutions ; 
the natural periods of seasons and times, change not 
more certainly than the relative situations and the 
manners of man. Hence, as the page of information 
opens to our view, we see mankind at one time bask- 
ing in peace, at another writhing in the agonies of 
war ; in quiet and repose now, and now trembling for 
the fate of their country, of their connections, of them- 
selves. Opinions also change ; and fashions, and 
studies j learning and ignorance change also; what 
heretofore was contemned, gradually rises into esteem 3 
or, what formerly commanded esteem, silently sjnks 
into contempt. No wonder then, if Art also rise and 
fall ; if it now shine with brilliancy, and be crowned 
Vol. IV. A part 2. with 

/ . 


with honours, be favorite with both prince and people, 
be thought ahnost divine, and share a part ot the re- 
verence meant to the deities it represents: — Anon, the 
scene changes ; what was half reverenced as divine, is 
ruined as mischievous ; what was favorite is forsaken, 
what was resplendent is extinct : no lonp-er the statue 
breathes, or the pictured figure glows with life: ob- 
livion draws her shroud over the delights of science and 
the wonders of Art, 

" And midnight, universal midnight reigns." 

But if night succeeds day, day also succeeds night ; 
another morn rises on the expectant sight, dawning 
light again streaks the horizun ; Art, with renovated 
vigour, disperses the shadows of darkness, diffuses 
warmth and radiance, and rouses into exercise and ex- 
ultation the re-aw akened talents of the human mind ; 
the re-invigorated efforts of intelligent taste. Urged 
now by emulation, and directed by judgment, the de- 
licacies of skill and the sallFes of genius again challenge 
applause, and provoke competition; again receive their 
rev^ard in the largess of munificence, and the palm of 

To trace the history of such events is a pleasing em- 
ployment; it expands and improves the mind, it al- 
most antedates our existence, it almost enables us to 
pry into futurity. Whoever is well informed of the 
past, may somewhat more than conjecture of the fu- 
ture, and reflecting on the character of ages whose 
course he has surveyed, may anticipate the description 
of those appointed to future generations. 

In the progress ot our former remarks, we saw cities 
founded and ruined : their memories preserved only in 
their names. Nineveh, and Babylon, crouded once — 
3jad then a blank: vvc saw the PiiARAOiis laboring 




into mountainous magnificence, temples, palaces, py- 
ramids; and the Caesars lavishing decorations on edi* 
fices— which we now trace by the ruins of their ex- 
posed foundations. 

The Roman empire was a huge fabric, whose weight 
insured its fall; but by being divided into parts, that 
fall was somewhat less injurious than it might have been : 
for though both pans fell, yet as they fell not at the 
same time, eich occasionally afforded an asylum to 
those who fled from impending ruin. 

Rome had been the seat of empire for ages; but 
CoNSTANTiNE rcmovcd the seat of empire from Rome 
to Byzantium, which he augmented, and called i.on- 
stanfiiwpk: hence it was that Greece and Italy changed 
characters; Italy by degrees from having been sove- 
reign became a province; and Greece from having 
been a province, became sovereign. 

But, we n.ust not pass over the change which pre- 
viously had taken place in no small portion of the pub- 
lic mind by the introduction of Christianity, and its ex- 
tensive progress: and we are the rather interested in 
this circumstance, because we have formerly seen a 
great proportion of the labors and talents of Art de- 
voted to the embellishment of temples, to the repre- 
sentations of deities, and to the decoration of offering's 
at their shrines ; from all which customs Christianity 
was utterly averse. 

That religion which placed duty rather in the devo- 
tion of the heart, than in the pomp of worship, and 
which inculcated rather internal holiness than external 
ceremony, couid have little demand for sumptuous 
edifices, could create little competition in magnihcence 
and pomp. Its edifices were simple ; and simple 
was all the Architecture it required: being a graft 
from the Jewish nation, which abominated images, it 

A 2 was 


was no promoter of Sculpture; and being at first cm- 
braced ratlier bv those of the middle ranks of life than 
by the rich, their expences were not likely to include 
picturc^s, even had they wished tor them. 

So tar as religion was concerned, Ciiristianity was no 
assistant to Art: and in civil life, if it did not forbid 
the introduction of ornament, it certainly moderated 
that excess which had prevailed ; it stood aloof irom 
the indecorus extravagance of the theatre, and it ab- 
horred the sanguinary pastimes of the arena. Its in- 
fluence was favorable to elegance — rather simple than 
superb: ana it much more resembled the stable pillar 
of the manly Doric, than the frittered shaft of the gaudy 

CoNSTANTiNE was ihe firs^ emperor who prolessed 
Christianity; he kept the empire in peace; and by 
protecting the arts, he maintained, if he did not exalt 
them; he engaged their assistance in his new city; so 
far he favored them, and prolonged their services, 
though he did not increase their merit. 

Julian the Apostate succeeded his uncle Constan- 
tine; and vehemently endeavoured to revive Pa- 
g?.rism : he built, or he decorated, the temples, and 
he tried to restore them to their importance, but a short 
reign rendered his designs abortive. 

Valentinian was an excellent prince; and Tiilo- 
Dosius the Great, was a successful defender of the 
empire against it's foes ; but the monuments of Art in 
his reign, now remaining, are little estimable. Alter 
his death, the wer.tcrn empir; suflered under the suc- 
cessive ravages of Alaric king of the Goths, who 
burnt and plundered Rome: tiien after a short period, 
of Attila the Hun, who invaded Italy; and, ere 
the country could recover from this" calamity, of 
Genseric the Vandal, who pillaged Rome, and 



carried many thousands of its inhabitants slaves into 
Africa. Elevations and depositions chaiacterize suc- 
ceeding times, till the empire which had begun in Au- 
gustus, ended in Augusiulus. 

Justinian, emperor of the East, by his general 
Bhlisarius saved Rome from total destruction j but 
after a pillage of forty days by ToniLA, little va- 
luable could be expected to remain. I'o the Goths 
succeeded the Lombards; and to the Lombards the 
Papal power, as sovereign over some of the finest 
provinces of Italy. 

Beside personal ambition, one great inducement of 
the popes to sha'<.e off their dependence on the eastern 
emperors (who had always some share of Italy, and 
occasionally much sway m its allairs) was their declar- 
ing against the worship of images ; for this superstition 
had been found advantageous by the popes, and its sup- 
port was connected with their authority in other eccle- 
siastical matters, which had repeatedly been controvert- 
ed by the Greek church. The popes, however, estab- 
lishing their dominion by the assistance of Chaple- 
magne, henceforth became sovereign princes over a 
considerable part of Italy. 

It might have been thought, that when the popes 
established the worship of images, they would have at- 
tended to somewhat of excellence in their Sculpture; 
but no such fact appears: Sculpture was neither estab- 
lished, nor improved, though the chissel exhausted itself 
in labour on wood and on stone. 

Italy was long a prey to barbarous nations, and in- 
volved in superstition and ignorance ; was governed hj 
powers which were themselves unsettled, and which, in 
consequence, were more mindful of the arts of the po- 
litician than of those which originate in talent and taste. 

L^nsettled times, are times of distress ; of adventure, 
of heroism, perhaps, but not of Art. AVhen the study 



of nations is war, learning must retire to its cell ; 
there, it may produce some liberal spirits who sigh for 
better times, who peruse the memoirs of past ages, 
or who inspect the remains of former masters, but 
their powers are restricted to barren wishes, and their 
efforts, if they advance to effort, are impotent, be- 
cause unassisted by patrons of congenial spint. Such 
is the description of a long blank in the history of Art 
in Italy. Pomp, but devoid of taste, riches, but misap- 
plied, labour, but withoutskill, and ornament, but with- 
out regularity. The correct principles of p.r>cient Art 
first suffered by the capricious innovations of extrava- 
gant liberties, (of these Vi truvius complains even 
in his time) fancy took the lead of judgment; sym- 
metTy was banished; and imagination, unrestrained, 
enervated those sentiments which should have been 
directors, and thereby made v/av for the ii trod action of 
a mode and style of Art, (I mean the Gothic) abso- 
lutely contradictory to what had been esteemed when 
Art was in its glory. 

There can be no doubt that the first edifices for wor- 
ship, which were occupied by christian cliurches, were 
simple rooms, in such houses as could conveniently 
admit of such assemblies; and, it is probable, that 
the early churches rarely consisted ol greater numbers 
than could be easily accommodated by rooms of no 
very extraordinary dimensions; but when in succeed- 
ing times, congregations became numerous, certiiin 
pastors were much followed, or converts trom the 
neighbourhood encreased the assembly, it is natural to 
suppose that what apartments formerly were sufficiently 
capacious, would now be thought narrow and incon- 
venient. Add to this, the probable accession of wealth, 
as this religion became more established, and in some 
places, and during some periods, the security enjoyed 



by its professors, and it will seem every way natural 
to imagine, that places for public worship became of 
more importance, and were regarded with greater at- 
tention, than before. 

It is indeed true, that many persecutions afflicted 
the christian church ; but rarely were these equally 
malignant throughout a long time ; and, perhaps, not 
universal at any time. Vv'e are also certain, that the 
christian clergy were occasionally held in esteem, and 
that public persons, bishops, &;c. were well known, 
and sometimes equally honored, even by the heathen. 
But it could not be, till the time of Constantine, tha^ 
any edifice sacred to christian worship could be 
ornamental, much less sumptuous; and conse- 
quently none such could require the abilities of emi- 
nent Art. 

Constantine not onJy stopped persecution, but 
he encouraged the profession of Christianity, and he 
built several churches ; most of these, however, were 
in a great measure formed on the model of the existing 
temples, varied perhaps by some of the principles, re- 
ceived togetlier with Christianity, from the Jewish 
worship : but there were also some whose plan, instead 
of being square, or round, (as the heathen temples 
were) was that of a cross, (the short or Greek cross). 
The most considerable of these, w^as that he erected in' 
his new city of Constantinople, the church of Sancta 
Sophia. This edifice did not long subsist. It was re- 
built by Constantius, his son ; and again it was un- 
fortunate J again destroyed in part, and repaired 
by Arcadius ; it was again burirt under Honorius; 
and it was re-instated by Theodosius the younger. 
It W3s once more reduced to ashes in a furious sedi- 
tion, in the time of Justinian. This emperor, de- 
sirous of signalizing his reign by a magnificent struc- 


ture, assembled the most famous architects from all 
parts, to the number of several hundreds. 

To Anthemius of Thralles, and to Isidorus of 
Miletus, Justinian committed the construction of 
his new edifice; these architects, alarmed by past 
events, determined to erect a building of extensive di- 
mensions, and at the same time proof against destruc- 
tion by fire, and therefore they employed no combus- 
tible materials in its fabrication : they were restricted to 
the general figure of their edifice, by its requisite re- 
semblance to a cross, in its plan ; but, they resolved to 
adopt a roof of a new form and construction, and to 
cover the centre of this church by a dome. As this 
was an idea hitherto unattempted, they experienced 
sundry accidents before it Vvas completed; owing 
chiefly to the great weight they had to sustain, and to 
the roimd form of the dome, wliose foundation was the 
square \)\c\s \orrp.e(\ by the angles at the meeting of the 
members ot the cross : at length however they succeed- 
ed; and completed the whole. This disposition was 
esteemed so beautiful, that it has been imitated in suc- 
ceeding edifices in various parts of Europe. In fact, 
the interior of this building (now a Turkish mosque) 
is solemn, and striking, and the Emperor Justinian 
is considered as pardonable, in his joytul exclamation, 
** 1 have surpassed thee, Solomon." 

It is not to be concluded from hence, that Sancla 
Sophia is a perfect piece ot Architecture; former mas- 
ters would have composed and finished many of its parts 
much better: but it was new, and striking, and solemn. 
Its reputation was bO high, that the construction of its 
dome notwithstanding its difficulty was imitat;j^d at 
Venice in the church of St. Mark, by an Ar- 
chitect fetched expressly by the doge from Constanti- 



The great dome of St. Mary oj Flowers at Flo- 
rence, built in the beginning of the fifteenth century by 
l*HiLLiPo Brunelleschi, is a remarkable instance 
of difficulty overcome ; this church was begun by Ar- 
KOLFO Lappi, according to the rules of Gothic con- 
struction ; after his death it remained unfinished, more 
than a century, till Brunellesciii undertook and 
completed it. When he first proposed a dome, it was 
looked on as a thing only to be accomplished by ma- 
gic. It was particularly studied by Michael Angelo 
when undertaking that of St. Peters, at Rome; this 
master declared, " that just such an one he would not 
make, and a better he could not make." 

Ihe dome of the church of the Augustins, at Rome 
(1483,) is one of the completest of the kind; and 
indeed is the earliest that is truly a circular dome rest- 
ing on square foundations. It was constructed above 
twenty years before Pope Julio II. directed the re- 
buildimr of *.S'/. Peter's at Rome: and the architects em- 
ployed in that immense building, took for their model 
this church of the Augustins when they determined on 
a dome of prodigious dimensions as a part of their new 

Bramante was the first architect employed on St. 
Peter's: his model is in the Vatican ; and is so large as 
to admit persons inside it: after his death, the design 
was altered b} Raffaelle Urbin, San Gallo, and 
others, in several parts. Michael Angelo Buona- 
ROTTi brought it to the form of a Greek cross; it was 
prolonged to the form of a Latin cross by the cavalier 
Fontana, Carlo Maderna, and others, who con- 
tinued the order adopted by Michael Angelo. The 
dome and its appurtenances are by Michael Angelo ; 
but that he was neither the inventor, nor first construc- 
tor of domes, (though often said to be) is evident from 
their history already given. 

Vol. IV. B pari 2 The 


The Greek cross differing from the Latin cross (this 
latter being longer at the bottom) was thought improper 
for the metropolitan cathedral of the Latin church ; and 
therefore an addition was made to this building in front ; 
projecting from whence the small towers stand on each 
side the roof. These small towers are little (if at all) 
seen in approaching this church; so that the whole 
front seems bounded at top by one straight line, not 
diversified by pediment, or other ornament, except 
statues. To remedy this unfinished appearance, the 
cavalier Bernini proposed to erect two towers; but 
their weight forbad their execution, and, it is said, the 
attempt injured the main building. 

The figure of a dome lias also been adopted in 
sundry capital buildings, but in none with more suc- 
cess than in St. Paul's, at London: which in point of 
construction, may be justly esteemed the completcst 
instance of the kind. 

While we are on the subject of churches, we may 
hint, that the Spire is a form of building unknown to 
ancient Art ; though now an ordinary and regular ter- 
mination of most parish churches. The reason of its 
adoption is not easy to assign ; it may have originated 
from the pyramidal form, and thereby have marked out 
a place of sepulture; or it may have been a gradual 
descendant of the numerous imitations made from the 
churches (especially that of the Hobj Sepulchre) at 
Jerusalem. The progress seems to be this: as the 
temple at Jerusalem had a very high portico in its front 
(90 cubits says Josephus, who also says, enough to 
turn a spectator giddy) so the principal church on 
Mount Calvary had likewise a high portico: on this 
portico were two towers; and this construction (/. e. of 
towers) seems naturally to have led to a finishing by a 
spire, since a tower appears like a spire broken off; and 
a spire like a tower completed. Among the uses of a 



tower to a church, one was, usually, to serve as a 
belfry : but no such use could be made of a spire, that 
being both thin in construction, and slender in dimen- 
sions. Spires were also sometimes of very great height. 
The spire of old St. PmiFs is one of the earliest we 
have any account of j it was finished A. D. 1222, and 
was in height 520 feet (/. e. from the ground.) lliQ 
spire of Salisbury cathedral is 4U0 feet high ; that of 
Strasburgh 450 feet. 

Pinnacles may be regarded as lesser spires: (perhaps 
not improperly termed spiracles,) and when once this 
ornament became fashionable, like all others, it was 
adopted throughout a prodigious range oi subjects, 
whereof its first devisers had no apprehension, and to 
which consequently they could have no reference. 

The mention of this naturally leads to a few words 
on the subject of Gothic Architecture, (wherein both 
spires, and pinnacles, make a conspicuous figure) 
which we have already partly proposed. 

Gothic Arcliitecture differed widely in its prin- 
ciples from Grecian Architecture. Its leading idea 
seems to be that of elevation : it elevated its pillars, 
it elevated its roofs, it elevated its towers, it elevated 
its spires ; the torms of its windows, doors, and other 
appurtenances were elevated. By this means it ac- 
quired a solemnity, together with a lightness, which 
was highly impressive. A spectator on entering a 
Gothic pile, could hardly discern the roof, it was so 
high ; hence he was struck with an idea of extent (to 
him) almost boundless; hence also a very great pro- 
])ortion of the whole (internal) of the building seen, 
uas involved in shadow j to this, the prodigious num- 
bers of pillars seen on all sides, contributed to impart 
r'iC appearance of a solemn grove ; and thus we are, 
on different principles, reminded of our original idea, 



that the solemn grove is the parent of places of wor- 
ship, and to the sensations connected with that, may 
be attributed our emotions of reverence, whether 
arising from the orderly compositions of Greece, or 
the more complex constructions of Norman Gothic. 

Gothic pillars are by no means conformable to 
any of the Grecian orders ; in consequence of the ge- 
neral elevation of the building, these also are elevated : 
they are in fact extremely tall and slimj hereby being 
weakened, they are united several together, or they 
are placed against, and around, a pier, which they 
are designed to ornament. Not that they are con- 
fined to these situations, for thev are placed in other 
modes, according to the nature of the general com- 
position, though these are their most frequent employ- 
ments. ' "' 

We have seen the Egyptians use the first of these 
artifices, and unite several stems into one pillar: but 
the Gothic pillars are distinct, though united, and 
have each its capital and mouldings apart. Of the 
pier ornamented by pillars, 1 recollect no instance in 
the internal parts of any ancient temple. 

As to the external part of Gothic buildings, the first 
striking peculiarity is the butfress, (this is of two 
kinds, the solid buttress,' and the arcltcd or fli/ing but- 
tress) designed to support the extremely high walls 
which compose the main building : but this is some- 
times hid, by being converted into a side chapel, open- 
ing inside the building, whereby the composition be- 
came — a principal, or body, (/. e. the church leading up 
to the choir) — and its associates, (/. ^', a number of cha- 
pels on each side of the church.) This construction was 
very convenient when the number of Saints was in- 
creased, as theieby, beside seating an apostle, for in- 
stance, in the chief place of honor, thirty or forty infe- 


riors, martjrs or saints, were also commemorated at so 
many separate shrines. 

The roofs ot Gothic edifices were of great lieifht:, 
and formed not of a sciriicircle, bat of a tall, or pointed 
arch ; and all their ornaments were correspondently 
pointed. In short, .these architects seem constantly to 
have preferred the upright diamond form to the square, 
and the upright oval to the circle, throughout the 
whole of their edifices, as well in the minor decora- 
tions, as in the principal parts. 

I shall just mention a few of the various other forms 
adopted in the construction of arches, by way of shew- 
ing the variety of which this member is susceptible, 
and the different tastes of different nations, or of the 
same nation at diilerent times. 

' -The most natural figure of an arch, seems to be that 
of the scuii-circle j this was adopted by the Greeks. 
The Saxons adopted semicircular arches, but, as it 
were, int. rkiced them, by causing them to spring from 
alternate pillars. The Moors preferred a form of the 
arch whijh comprised two thirds of a circle : whence 
such were used in Spain, and some other parts of 
Europe; but principally in warm climates. A semi- 
oval upright, or segments of this form, was sometimes 
used. The horse-shoe arch is allied to that of the 
Aioors. I'hat arch was once fashionable, whose top 
was formed extremely sharp, by reverse sweeps, or 
contrary flexions; these I conceive were of difficult 
execution. Besides these kinds of arches, much flatter 
ones were used, (as in bridges) where an extensive 
span is required, yet the weight must be diminished as 
much as possible, in favour of the piers. 

As to Gothic ornaments, I shall merely refer to those 
of the windows, and doors. Very large windows were 



Csually, in a manner, divided into smaller ones, by tall 
arches of stone, which supported ornaments of stone 
also 5 and these were completed by windows decorated 
with those pannels of painted glass, v/hose colors we 
so much admire. The doors of Gothic churches were 
formed on a principle of recession j being wide in front, 
and gradually diminishing near the building. By this 
plan, a great number of pillars, and arches, and their 
ornaments, were brought into view at once ; and some- 
times a hundred ol saints and angels delended the 
door-way. This also was frequently the form of the 
windows, and here its effect is better than in the doors, 
where it sometimes looks almost like a Jortification 
denying admittance, or like a jury of scrutineers, 
suspecting the person who enters. Gothic churches 
constantly maintained the distinction between the chan- 
cel and the choir: at least, this prevails among them; 
especially among those built after the time ot the croi- 
saders (scarce any are more ancient) who brought this 
distribution from Palestine. 7\bbics, and other reli- 
gious foundations, followed more or less closely, the 
principles of churches. 

After the revival of Grecian Art," the Gothic exter- 
nal principles gave way, and were dismissed : buttresses 
were omitted, pinnacles, pierced ornaments, aisles 
lower than the body of the building, and projecting 
chapels, were all prohibited, and succeeded by parts 
generally square and uniform, by windows generally 
circular in their arches, and by entrances, often direct 
copies of the most famous temples of Italy, in their pil- 
lars, porticoes, and pediments. 

It should seem from these remarks, that our present 
churches are an assemblage of different principles: often 
Greek in their pillars, and ornaments; Gothic in their 
lowers and spires ; Jewish in what attention is paid to 



the distinction of holy and most holy ; and peculiar in 
the use of galleries, organ-lofts, pulpits, communion 
altars, monuments for the dead, and pews. Neverthe- 
less, some of them have great merit in their composition, 
and distribution ; and those which cannot claim perfec- 
tion altogether, may often, with great justice, boast of 
many of their parts as excellent. 

It remains, tliat a tribute of respect be paid to those 
retirements of Art and learning, which, during the 
barbarous ages, sheltered persons of so great skill as 
that which we see in the Gothic churches j for we are 
not to attribute to professed architects, to builders, to 
masons, or to carpenters, what merit these possess, but 
to the head, or principal, of the community which was 
to be benefited by the erection, or to the merit of some 
brotlicr selected by the society on account of his know- 
ledge, to superintend such a work. When therefore it 
is duly considered, that to a monk, not to a professor 
of the trowel, or the axe, such fabrics generally owe 
their excellence, the skill which they display, and the 
wonderful knowledge in construction which they de- 
monstrate, is a very honorable testimony in favour of 
those degrees of sciences, and that proportion of learn- 
ing, which such seminaries secluded, and by seclusion 
preserved through many a stormy blast for the advant- 
age of succeeding generations. The fact is, in few 
words, that such of our modern architects as have stu- 
died these structures, are enraptured with the skill they 
display ; and freely confess their inability to surpass, or 
to equal them, though surrounded by all the improve- 
ments of this enlightened a^-e. 

We have already hinted, that though it is genera!, 
it is not just to accuse Gothic ignorance of the declen- 
sion of Art. The fact is. Art had declined long be- 
fore^ and true taste had been sinking into oblivion. 


at least for two or three centuries, when the irruption 
of the northern hives completed (by unsettling the go- 
vernments, and destroying the ornaments, of Italy,) 
the ruin ot those principles vvhicii might have restored 
it. The true precepts of Art once lost, perverse imi- 
tations of them assumed their place ; and, as nothing is 
so bad as the perversion of the best things, nothing 
could be worse in point of heavy taste, tlian art now 
produced. Such is the character even of the times ot 
Charlemagne. The tenth and eleventh centuries 
may be regarded as the date of that stvle usually called 
Gothic: it lasted at leasi: five cent uries^ but in time it 
varied in some of its principles, and it was at last 
greatly improved, and prodigiously enriched, but it 
rarely possessed regularity, and symmetry : this is its 
obvious, and general fault. 

The sanctity of devotional structures might perhaps 
cherish a hope that they sliould escape the ravages of 
barbarous invasion ; but what may screen civil erections 
from such calamity ? Resistance is their only resource 
fq^r security — and this idea at once excludes attention to 
taste and elegance. The castle must be a fortress, not 
a mansion ; it must be a massy composition of massy 
walls, with crevices for windows, and steep ascents 
for entrances j it must also be capacious, for the 
purpose of receiving and securing not merely the 
master, but his tenants and their cattle, this implies 
stores and munition of no little incumbrance. In 
point of situation also, it must be so placed as to sur- 
vey the country around its tenantry (placed at its foot,) 
not to enjoy the prospect but to discover enemies. 
Better times may produce better structures ; and as 
fear declines, indications of fear may disappear, the 
castle may gradually dismiss its battlements, its towers, 
its keep, and forget tliem in the noble hall, alive with 



good cheer, and the stately apartment furnished with 
laborious magnificence. Following ages may go fur- 
ther, and congratulate a lighter style of Architecture, 
and more elegant decoration, while at the same time, 
more hearty enjoyment, or more open hospitality they 
cannot boast. 

We have formerly laid it down as a maxim, that 
Painting and Sculpture followed Architecture, and this 
they still appear to do. It is true, that when zeal raged 
most furiously in favor of statues, the statues it favored 
were a disgrace to their abettors; neither were the 
partizans of pictures a whit superior in point of taste 
to their opponents, pictures such as they produced were 
rather to be execrated than consecrated. Neverthe- 
less, there always was somewhat of a demand both for 
statues and pictures ; but rather in Italy than in Greece : 
for the Greeks refused admission to statues (as they do 
to this day) but the Latins did not entirely reject pic- 
tures ; on the contrary, most, if not all, of the old 
churches in Rome, were partly painted, and when 
new churches were to be erected they naturally furnish- 
ed employment for the pencil; together with the chis- 
sel. Certain devotional subjects, also, could scarcely 
fail of finding purchasers, and to what few were taken 
from the bible, we must add, the many furnished by 
the lives of saints, acts of founders, miracles in favor 
of particular communities, ex votes, resurrection pieces, 
and satires on the monks and the clergy, the regulars 
and the seculars ; none of which certainly were favor- 
able to the sublimities of Art. But, after all, the best 
painters w^ere in the convents, and the numbers of 
painted missals remaining, prove that some branches 
of Art were diligently studied. Art after its revival 
experienced at diflPerent times sundry favorable acci- 
dents, beside that of exciting general attention ; I al- 
Vol. IV. C part 2. lude 


lude to the discovery, or Introduction, at least, of oil 
painting; to that of Engraving ; and the distribution of 
impressions ; to that of Printing, which has diffused 
general knowledge ; to the institutions of Academies, 
which are now in almost all great cities ; to the criti- 
cisms and illustrations which the learned have constant- 
ly bestowed on it; and to the discovery of capital pro- 
ductions of ancient Art, almost daily, in various parts of 
Italy. As one of the most remarkable of this latter 
kind of good fortune, I shall include the discovery of 
the city of Herculaneum, so long lost to the world, 
and so happily restored in the last century. 
- Art revived first in Italy, but not throughout Italy 
at once; we propose therefore slightly to relate the 
chief events of the various schools, which arose in that 
country ; comprizing so much of their history as may 
accord with our plan. 




The trading republic of Florknx'e had the honor 
of producing the illustrious Cimabue, who about the 
middle of the thirteenth century received instructions 
from a few Greeks fetched from Constantinople, which 
he so far improved as to be justly esteemed the father 
of Modern Art in the branch of Painting. Certainly 
the best painters in the imperial city were but mode- 
rate, at that time, and, equally certainly, those who 
travelled from thence, were not the best that 
citv possessed, so that the tutors of young Cima- 
bue are evidently less to be considered as accessary to 
the revival of Art, than his own natural genius, and 
industry. Genius, when once engaged, is almost sure 
to advance ; if it can also attract notice, it is thereby 
enabled to surmount many difficulties. Cimabue 
transmitted his skill to his scholar Ciiorxo; and 
GiOTTo being sent for to Rome, and there caressed, 
instructed many scholars, and spread the knowledge he 
received from his master. 

Among the earliest patrons of Art must be reckon- 
ed the celebrated family of the Medici, at Florence. 
When trade and commerce was in few hands, those 
tew became immensely rich, and by their riches were 
enabled to vie with many sovereign princes in mag- 
nificence. Florence, it is true, was a republic, but its 
counsels were swayed by individuals, and among those 
individuals Cosmo de Medicis sustains an illustrious 
character: he cultivated learning, encouraged learned 
men, and patronized ingenuity j though not, perhaps, 
so much as he would have done had not popular in- 

C 2 dignities 


dignities restrained his exertions within the limitations 
of prudence. Lorenzo de Medicis, grandson of Cos- 
mo, was at once the bulv\'ark of his house, and of the 
republic ; he conducted the Florentine state with dig- 
nity, and advantage, and, as in his time happened the 
dispersion of learned men occasioned by the taking of 
Constantinople by the Turks, he afforded them an 
asylum, he purchased the manuscripts which were dis- 
persed, he encourged the preservation of monuments 
and Art, he commissioned some to procure them for 
himself, and he maintained others during their studies 
of such subjects. To him we owe Albertiy the restorer 
of ancient Architecture, and in short to him we may 
be said to owe the whole successive series of Flo- 
rentine artists. Florence possesses a noble gallery of 
capital Antiques, for which it is beholden to the family 
of the Alddici, who at various times, and under various 
fates, have maintained great regard tor the Arts. Flo- 
rence gave birth to Michael Angelo Buonarotti; 
and reckons among the ornaments ol its school, As- 


SARi, JPiETRO da Cortona, zud many others ; not for- 
getting the late J. B. Cipriani, who long resided in 

It must be mentioned that the collections formed by 
the Medici were dispersed ; so that not many of their 
subjects form the present gallery, nevertheless, the prin- 
ciples and taste introduced by that family prevailed af- 
ter their exclusion, and by the protection of the princes 
who succeeded them. 




Venice was long the emporium of Europe: emerg- 
ing gradually from its native islets, (peopled by those 
who tied from Attila) it became great and powerful, 
riches flowed into it from all parts, and with riches 
magnificence. We have mentioned that its doge Zina 
fetched architects from Constantinople to build the 
church of St. Mark. This church is neither Greek nor 
Gothic, but a mixture of both, yet for the time was a 
capital structure. 

A.D. 1206. The Venetian general Baldwin took 
Constantinople, and brought from thence sundry va- 
luable antiques ; among others the four famous horses of 
bronze gilt, (said to be the work of Lysippus) which 
stood in front of the ducal palace, since transferred to 
Paris. 'l"nc libraries of Venice, also, preserved many 
things for the inspection ot the curious ; and where it 
was the fashion to bedeck the outside of houses with 
pictures, no less than the inside, it may well be suppos- 
ed when Art got tooting, it might prosper. As these 
pictures perished by time they were often replaced by 

The number of families which were enriched by com- 
merce, and ennobled, precludes the mention of any one 
in particular as a patron of Art ; but it may be observed 
tliat the state itself employed the best painters to deco- 
rate its public buildings; and thereby not only furnished 
employment, and exercise to Art — but also commemo- 
rated public events, and impressed strangers with extra- 
ordinary ideas of its greatness. It did more 3 it trans- 
mitted to posterity a school of Art, which has served 



for study to succeeding painters. Its artists excelled in 
a particular branch (coloring) and no where can this be 
so well studied as at Venice. 

It may be concluded, that when the state decorates 
its apartments, and palaces, inside and outside, and the 
nobility do the same, the general taste, in consequence, 
will furnish many opportunities for Art to excel, and 
the natural emulation of Art will dispose it to embrace 
those opportunities ; such was the character of Venice 
in the fifteenth century, when the Bellims led the way 
in coloring, and Giorgione and Titian followed. In 
the sixteenth century the Veroneses, and others, sup- 
ported the reputation of their school ; and gave that 
kind of tone to the productions of the Venetian school 
which they have retained ever since. I do not find that 
at present Venice boasts of many artists superior to those 
of other countries ; neither are their excellencies now 
exclusively their own j but whoever recollects the merit 
of Canaletti, Marieschi, and others, will estimate 
Venetian art on an honorable scale. Venice is no lon- 
ger the emporium of Europe, nor even an ii dependent 




The Roman school possessed many advantages over 
those of other parts : Rome having been the seat of 
imperial majesty, it had been highly ornamented j and 
in spite of misfortune, some remembrance of such orna- 
ment would remain in the minds of its inhabitants, 
and more be transmitted by tradition, ready to be 
called into exercise by favourable incidents. Also 
some remains, though mutilated, of former excellence 
being ever before their eyes, maintained a kind of 
lambent disposition for Art, and furnished objects of 
study ready at a moment. Add to this, learning, such 
as the times afforded, was of necessity cultivated at 
Rome, on account of its ecclesiastical connections ; 
and whatever of wealth the church possessed, naturally 
centered where the head of the church resided. But 
the influence of Rome in procuring artists of renown 
from their former residences, was a very considerable 
reason of its early, and especially of its rapid progress 
irt Art. A numerous list of artists might be produced 
to confirm this remark. 

The Arts were somewhat reviving at Rome before 
the date of the present St. Feter^s ; but the erection 
of that building was the undertaking which determined 
their abode, and their rank ; this called forth Archi- 
tecture, and Architecture called forth Painting, and 
Sculpture. So large an edifice required many artists 
to fill it with their works; and to this must be added 
the Vatican, and its apartments. When the Pope was 
thus magnificently lodged, the cardinals, each in his 
turn, would follow his example ; hence palaces rose, 



and when finished, required furniture proportionate to 
their magnitude, or richness. Kome has many such 
palaces ; some of which, indeed, have changed posses- 
sors, but others have been long in the same families, 
some or other of whose branches might hope to arrive 
at the honors of the cardinalate. 

Rome in consequence of the foregoing advantages, 
has always maintained a respectable school of Art : its 
masters have been allowed to excel in design ; to 
which they were enabled, by their possession of the 
antique statues, and buildings. This may be reckoned 
the first of the advantages of the Roman school; the 
works of the great Roman masters form another j and 
the general tincture of criticism (so necessary to just 
thinking) which obtains among its men of letters, and 
which is supported by numerous books, and researches, 
is by no means a trifiing addition in favor of the Ro- 
man school. 

Rome, however, has not ot late produced any won- 
derful artists; I mean, those who not contented with 
merely repeating the merits of former masters endeavor 
to surpass them. It would be strange if the Art was 
lost at Rome ; but where advantages are so consider- 
able, we have a right to expect proportionately con- 
siderable eminence. 

Rome has produced some good engravers; but their 
employment has been the circulation of designs from 
their old masters rather than from modern pictures ; 
which furnishes presumptive evidence that modern pro- 
ductions are not in equal esteem with those of former 
masters, by the strangers who visit Rome, or in the 
countries to which such prints are exported. 




Bologna had produced very respectable artists, be- 
fore the school of the Carracci commenced; yet to 
these masters it has been indebted for the greater part 
9^ its reputation. Francisco Francia, the earliest 
of the Bolognese (considerable) masters, dates from 
1450 to 1518, and Primaticcio not long after him. 
Yet the merit of the Carracci has imparted a steadi- 
ness to the Bolognian school, which entitles them to 
the highest honor ; and, especially, as to many of the 
artists produced here Rome itself is under great obliga- 
tions: GuiDo, DoMENicHiNo, Lanfranc, and others, 
prove this. Bologna has neither commerce, nor royalty, 
to give it a pre-eminence among the Italian cities; and 
therefore it is deprived of some of the most powerful 
stimuli, which excite the abilities of Art. Traffic may 
to a certain point excite emulation, as emulation may 
be excited by the hope of patronage ; but if both traffic 
and patronage be wanting, genius may produce excel- 
lence almost in vain, or solely {appropriate to the barren 
plaudits of casual spectators. 

V«>1. IV. Dpart^. ART 



GER.MA^^Y has doubtless produced a number o\ good 
artists 5 but whether it be that our hitcrcour^c with 
Germany in respect of Art is not extensive^ or that the 
Grerman language is little cultivated in England, or 
whether the Germans have but little exported their 
productions, however it may be, i liave not been so 
fortunate as to meet with instances of many. We know 
that Germany had early masters, and that trom the days 
of Albert Durer, to the present. Art has been culti- 
vated in ail its branches ; and in the article ot Engrav- 
ing> seems to have taken the lead of all Europe at one 
period. Since Germany has sent its youth to study at 
Rome, it has dropped much of that Ciothic gusto to 
which it wds formerly addicted; and is now as refined 
as its neighbours, 1 conceive that the patient employ- 
ment of Engra\'ing, is well calculated for German 
steadiness i and from some iate specimens, it may be 
concluded, their merit in this branch of Art is very re- 
spectable. • -.Mi^M." ,■ 

, Germany has taken the trouble to send youth to Pa- 
ris to study Engraving; where they have excelled their 
preceptors in beauty of stroke and handling ; and iis 
the Mezzo^tinto manner was pleasing to them, the 
Germans have visited England to acquire it -, but in 
this they did not excel i and British prints are much in 
request among them. 

J>!/ _ ART 



The riches of Spain enabled that couutiy to p^ir- 
chase the talents, and the works, of the best aitists. 
When such artists coiiM be persuaded to tnive), the 
kings of Spain employed them in their works, as ap- 
pears in the Escoria], and when the best artists were 
unwilling to quit their abodes, the kings of Spain have ^ 
purchased their pictures, whereby that country now 
possesses a noble collection of the best performances. 
Beside this, as the political, as well as commercial,"' 
connectioii of Spain with Italy, has always been con* 
siderable, and that country has been much visited by 
Spanish grandees, the manners of Italy have more or- 
less prevailed in Sjjain ; and collections of pictures have 
been formed -in consequence. Spain has produced 
painters of great merit ; as well of liistory, as of por- 
trait ; it has also many Sculptures extremely well per- 
formed by natives; how far its taste in Architecture is 
equal to that of Italy, I profess not to know, neither, 
perhaps, will it be easy to judge, till the Art of En- 
graving, wherein the Spaniards have been backward, 
shall transmit those representations which may enable 
us to determine : but I apprehend. Architecture in 
Spain is yet some steps from perfection. 

Portugal may be considered as part of Spain ; so 
much liave the same manners, and customs, obtained: 
the Portuguese are not, (I believe) before the Spaniards j 
neither has their commercial connection with England 
greatly improved their knowledge of Art. 




FiULKCE, by its situation, is so connected with great 
part of Europe, and has always been so much in the 
habit of intermeddling in the concerns of other coun- 
triesj that it would have been remarkable if it had not 
partaken of the knowledge of that reputation which 
Art was daily acquiring. France has several times 
made inroads into Italy, even to Naples, its extremity : 
and her kings and princes have often visited Rome. 
France also has long wished to be thought the rival of 
Italy, and therefore, has strictly watched over the novel- 
ties of that country. Among its monarchs, it has 
reckoned some of the most sumptuous in Europe, who 
at the same time have cultivated letters, and arms. 
The reputation of Leonardo da Vinci in Italy, in- 
duced Francis I. of France, to entice him into France, 
and he treated his merit with great respect, even to a 
visit to him when dying. Mary of Medicis employ- 
ed Rubens to decorate her palace of the Luxembourg, 
at Paris; and Simon Vouet met with great success; 
had many scholars (among whom Le BRU^) and 
established a great reputation. Nevertheless, wemnt 
k)ok to the reign of Louis XIV, for the brightest 
period of the Arts in France; that prince encouraged 
them from ostentation ; and his example was followed 
by all his court. He encouraged Architecture, and he 
caused the antient structures to be studied, and publish- 
ed under the direction of Colbert his minister. Sculp- 
ture, he brought to a very respectable rank ; and he 
even fetched Bernini out of Italy, and allowed him 
five louis a day, while in France. He decorated his 



palaces with many good sculptuj^^s ; arid left many ex- 
cellent masters in this brandb-^ Painting he ripened 
by his protection of Le Brun: but Painting in France 
did not afterwards flourish in its nobler styles, as might 
have been expected. Engraving he perfected j and his 
encouragement of this Art, Droduced a succession of 
Engravers extremely honorable and beneficial to 

Poussin's manner was not popular, and Le Sueur 
died young. I'he successors to these had merit, but 
not the merit of their masters: a frippery taste debased 
their best works, in which respect Watteau was un- 
happily injurious to Art, and Boucher had nothing 
superior to offer. Vernet in landscape has lately 
been highly, and deservedly esteemed. 

Royal patronage was a principal support of Art in 
France, the public buildings, bridges, &:c. were many 
of them truly noble: it was also the royal custom to 
order annually a certain number of statues and other 
sculptures, and of historical pictures. The artists also 
were handsomely and conveniently lodged in the 
Louvre at Paris, and the whole establishment of Art 
had altogether the air of a national undertaking. 

Tlie A\rts suffered severely during the paroxysms of 
the Revolution, but are now pompously and lavishly 
encouraged. The valuable remains of ancient, and 
specimens of modern art, public or private, in all con- 
quered countries, have been invariably transferred to 




Holland and Flantiers were for a long time the scats 
of civil commotion, and bloody war: this is sayiof^ 
enough to determine that there the Arts were ahnost 
prohibited. Nevertheless, Rub£ns and Vandyk (his 
disciple) led the way in the most honorable career, and 
<!isseminated those principles which succeeding masters 
practised with great success. 

The court of the Netherlands, or Low Countries, 
■while united to Spain, possessed not a little of Spanish 
pride, and magnificence, hence it encouraged the Arts 
which furnished such magnificence ; but especially in 
the city of Antwerp, v/here trade and commerce then 
md taken their station, and where buildings were ra- 
pidly rising, did the Art of Painting prosper; the 
churches, the convents, as well as the houses of the 
rich Burghers, testify this. When trade removed to 
Amsterdam, Art forsook Antwerp; but it did not 
Sourish at Amsterdam as it had done at Antwerp : its 
exertions were required to run in a different channel, 
arid were applied to different purposes; its subjects 
were smaller, nicer, neater, but then it treated some 
of these subjects with prodigious iuteiligence, and cor- 
rectness. It could not vie with tlx: Italian schools in 
dignity, and grandeur, nor with the French in sprightU- 
ness, but it exceeded all in the management ot light 
snd shadow, and was inferior to none m coloring, and 
its dependencies. Its style of drawing was certainly 
incorrect, and too common: but its figures were tlesh 
and blood, and its landscapes were Nature herself. 
Flowers and fruits, still-life, and various other minor 
subjects, it rendered absolute deceptions; it spared no 
pains to overcome difficulties, and in the mgnual prac- 
tice of Art might stand in competition with the most 
renowned schools. 




The British nation has never been highly esteemed 
for original Art : whatever of excellence it may have 
possessed, has usually been import^ from the conti- 
nent, together with its fashions, and raanners. In the 
early ages the Britons were better acquainted with 
Agriculture than with arts ; though they were estecmeid 
an ingenious people. The Romans left a tincture of 
Arts lx:hin<i them, and the Saxons, when settled^ fa- 
vored Architecture, at least. Afterwards, Art wa.? 
restricted to the cloister ; and during the turbulence of 
civil contention had little honor or reward to expects 
It was not till the long settled reign oi Henry VIL 
that Arts began to flourish ; that prince sent for &:ulp« 
tors, &c- from Italy, whom he engaged on his works i 
and especially on his magnificent sepulchre. His son 
Henry VII L was ostentatious by nature ; and his ri- 
val Francis of France, being ostentatious also, these 
princes vied with each other, Wolsey was rich ajid 
proud, as well as politic ; and this statesman, though 
a priest, contributed to promote Art, by buildings, 
gifts, &c. The king and his court patronized Hans 
Holbein, and we are obliged to this painter for the 
likcni^sses oi most of them. Queen Elizabeth cci- 
tainly possessed an excellent understanding; and amon"- 
the objects she patronized was Painting, if not Sculp- 
ture- Architecture revived also, about this period, on the 
Grecian principles; and though it was at first mingleii 
with Gothic excrescencies, yet gradually it purified it- 
self from them, and assumed a more regular and cor* 
rect appearance. The pacific James favored Art, by 
favoring tranquillity i and Charjlw I. by his patronage 


of Vandyke, and Inigo Jones, his employment of 
Rubens, and his own intelligence in Art, seems to have 
bid fair for establishing an English school, which might 
have proved inferior to none : this the troubles of his 
reign prevented ; and by nothing more than by the 
sale of his collection of works of i\rt, &c. on which 
the king had bestowed great attention and liberality. 
The republic, such a republic as it was, was too much 
agitated, jealous, and fluctuating, to attend to any 
study less important than public affairs. The tire of 
London was the noblest opportunity Flngiand ever of- 
fered to have served Art and been served by Art, but 
unhappily it was lost. Charles II. was too profligate 
to serve the Arts effectively; and king William had 
too much other business on his hands. If therefore the 
Arts produced works of merit, it was less from public 
patronage, than from private. Many respectable indi- 
viduals of the English nobility understood Art, and va- 
lued it ; and many of its productions attest its excellence^ 
but we cannot justly date the English school" till the mid- 
dle of the eighteenth century, when those principles 
were gaining ground which ultimately issued in a public 
establishment. HogartHj by procuring an act in favor 
of Engravers, did the first essential service to that Art ; 
the establishment of Exhibitions, was the next great step 
which advanced the reputation and merit of Art. Since 
that period, much which theBritish school has produced, 
would be thought worthy of distinguished eminence in 
the most celebrated cabinets of Europe. Architecture 
is greatly studied in England, and generally understood. 
Portrait Painting is fashionable ; History Painting more 
popular than it has been : Sculpture spreads, perhaps 
improves: Engraving has been greatly favored ; and is 
likely to maintain, if not increase its reputation. 






Metrodorus, native of Persia, acquired great riches; and 
is said by some to have urged Constantinc to a war with Persia, 
in behalf of the persecuted Cljristians. 

Alipius, was ordered bv Julian the Apostate to rebuild the 
temple of Jerusalem, A.D. 363. 

CiRiADES, was at once consul, and architect, under TheO" 
dosius; but was suspected of avarice and traud. 

Sennamar, in the 5th century, an Arabian who built two 
famous palaces in Castile — boasted of as wonders by the Arabs. 

Entinopos, was theoccasion of building thecityofVeiuce, 
by erecting his house on a small island, Mhich afterwards was 
more fully peopled bythosewhofledfrom^/ar/r^ Cir A.VfASQ, 

Alois! us was commissioned by Thcodork, prince of the 
Ostrogoti)s, to repair many of the buildings in Rome. 

Anthemius, of Tr-al/us, a city of Lydia in Asia Minor, 
was arciiitcct, sculptor, and mechanic. 

IsioDORus of Miletus, was associate of AnthemiuSj not only 
in the famous edifice of Sta. Sophia^ but in many other build- 
ings erected by Justinian. More than 500 architects were in 
employ about this time, A.D. 566. 

Perhaps no sovereignever raised so many buildingsas Char- 
lemagne : but all were heavj-, and dull, their niei'it being so- 
lidity. A.D. 800. 

RuMOALDo built the cathedral of Rheims, 840. 

BuscHETTO, a Greek, built the Duomo at Pisa, 1016. 

BuoNo built the Campanile of St. il/a?^/: at Venice, 1154, 
and many works in various places. 

The doge Zi ani of Venice, employed two architects whose 
names are not known ; one a Lombard, the other from Con- 
stantinople, the latter rebuilt St. i/rtryt'* Church, 1178. 

Vol. IV. E part 2. Suger 


SuGER, abbot of St, Denis ^nezx Paris, built the abbey 1 140. 

Dapo flourished in Florence ; and built many edifices. 
Died 1262. 

Arnolfo his son, born 1232, died 1300, was the most re- 
noAvned architect and sculptor of his time: he rebuilt the 
walls of Florence, and many p>ilaces and public places ; he 
bejran the Duomo of Florence fS'f. Many of l lowers J in 1288 ; 
and laid his foundations with so great judgment that they af- 
terwards supported the fungous dome of Brunellcschi. 

Jean Raw was employed 26 yearii on the church of Notre 
Dame at Paris. 

Erwin de Steinback laboured 23 years together on Stras- 
burgh cathedral: which he completed. Died 1305. The 
tower was not finished till 1449. 

Giovanni Cimabue, was born at Florence, A.D. 1240, 
and was the first who revived thcart of painting in Italy. Be- 
ing descended of a noble family, andbeing of sprightly parts, 
he was sent to school, to learn the belles leltres of those times ; 
butinstead of minding his books, he spent all his time in draw- 
ing men, or horses, on paper, or on the backs of his books. 
The Arts having been extinct in Italy, since the irruption of 
the barbarians, the senate of Florence had sent at that time for 
painters out of Greece, to practice painting in Tuscany. O- 
Tfiahue was their first disciple: for, following his inclination, 
he used to elope from school, and pass whole days with those 
painters to see them work. His father perceiving his disposi- 
tion, agreed with the Greeks to place him under their care. 
He began the study; and soon surpassed his masters both in 
design and coloring. He gave something of strength and free- 
dom tohisworks,to which they could never arrive: and though 
he wanted the art of managing lights and shadows, was little 
acquainted with perspective, and in other particulars w;is but 
indifferently accomplished, yet the foundation which he laid 
for future improvement, entitled him to the name of the ** Fa- 
ther of the first age, or infancy, of modern painting." 

Cimahue painted in fresco and in distemper, painting in oil 
being not then in use. He painted many things at Florence, 
some of which yet remain: but as his fame spread, he was sent 
for to remote places, and among others, to Asceci, in Umbria, 



the birth place of St. Frauds. There in tlie lower church, ia 
company with those Greek painters, he painted some of the 
cieling and the sides of the church, with the storiesof the lives 
of our Saviour and St. Francis ; in which lie so far out-did his 
coadjutors, that he resolved to paint by himself, and under- 
took the upper church in fresco. Being returned to Florence, 
he painted for the churcii of Sancta Maria Nozdla, Avhere h^ 
went first to school, a great piece of a Madonna, which is be- 
tween the cliapel of iheRucillai, and that of the Bardidi Ver- 
nia ; and which was the biggest picture that had been seen in 
those da3'S. The connoisseurs sa}', that one may even now 
discern in it the Greek way of his first masters, though im- 
proved. It produced so much wonder in those tim 's, that it 
was carried from Cimabut's ht)use to the church with trum- 
pets before it, in solemn procession; and he was highly re- 
warded and honored by the city for it. There is a tradition, 
that while Cimabue was painting this piece in a garden he had 
near the gate of St. Peter, Charles of Anjoa, king of Naples, 
came through Florence ; where being received with all pos- 
sible respect, the magistrates among other entertainments, 
carried him to see this piece. And because nobody had yet 
seen it, all the gentry of Florence waite*] u;x)n him thither; 
and with such extraordinary rejoicings, that the name of the 
place was changed to Borgo Allegri, that is, the Merry 
Suburb ; which name it has retained to this day, though it has 
since been built upon, and made part of the city. 

Cimabue was a great architect, as well as painter, and was 
concerned in the fabric of Sancta Maria del Fiore in Florence; 
during which employment, at the age of 60 years, he died. 
Cimabue's picture is still to be seen, done by S mon Sanese, in 
the chapel of Sancta Maria Novella, in profile, in the history 
of Faith. It is a figure which has a lean face, alittle red heard, 
in point, with a capuche, or monk's hood, on his head, after 
the fashion of those times: the figure next to him is Simon 
Sanese himself, who drew his own picture by the help of two 

Giotto, was born A.D. 1276, at a little village near Flo- 
rence, of parents who were plain country people. When a 
boy, he was sent to keep sheep in the fields ; and, having a 
natural inclination for design, he used to amuse himself with 

E 2 drawing 


drawing them after the life upon the sand, in the best manner 
he could. Cimabue traveling that way found him at this work, 
and thence conceived so good an opinion of his genius for 
painting, that he prevailed with his father to send him to Flo- 
rence, to be brought up under him. He had not applied him- 
self long to design, before he began to shake off the stiffness 
of the Grecian masters. He endeavoured to give finer airs to 
his heads, more of nature to his coloring, and proper actions 
to his figures. He attempted likewise to draw after the life, 
and to express the passions of the mind. What he did, had 
not been done in 200 years before, with any skill cfjaial to his. 
GiotUi's reputation extended far and near, insomuch, that it is 
reported that pope Benedict IX. sent a gentleman into Tusca- 
ny, to see what sort of a man he was ; and to bring him a de- 
sign from each of the Florentine painters, being desirous of 
estimating their skill and capacities. When he came to 6^;- 
ottOj and explained the pope's intentions, which were to em- 
ploy him in St. Pctefs church at Rome; and desired him to 
send some piece of design by him to his holiness : Giotto, who 
was a pleasant man, took a sheet of paper, drew with one 
stroke of the pencil so true a circle, tliat " round as Giotto's 
O," became proverbial. Then presenting it the gentleman, 
he told him, smiling, that" there wasa piece of design, Mhieh 
he might carry to his holiness," The man replied, " I ask for 
a design :" Giotto answered, " Go, Sir, I tell you his holiness 
asks nothing else of me." The ])ope comprehended by this, 
how much Giotto excelled in design all other painters of his 
time; and accordi.iglv sent for him to Rome, and employed 
him. Here he painted nniriy things, and among the rest a ship 
of Mosaic work, which is over the three gates of the portico, 
in the entrance to St. Pr/tv'.v church : which very celebrated 
piece is known to all painters by the i>ame of Giotto's bar(]ne, 
Jitfiedict being dead, Clement V. succeeded him, and trans- 
ferred the papal court to Avignon ; whither, likewise Giotto 
was obliged to go. After some stay there, having satisfied the 
popeby many fine specimensof his art,he was iargelyrewarded, 
and returned to Florence full of riches and honor \\\ 1316. He 
was soon called to Padua, where he painted a new-built cha- 
pel ; from thence to Verona, and then to Ferrara. At the same 
time the poet DantCy hearing that Giotto was at Ferrara, and 



being liimself then an exile at Kaveiina, got him over to Ra- 
venna, where he painted several things. In 1322, he was again 
invited abroad by Castruccio Castnicani, lord of Lucca, and, 
after that, by jRoherf^ king of Naples. Giotto painted many 
things at Naples, and chiefly the chapel, where the king was 
so pleased with him, that he used very often to go and sit by 
him while he was at work: for Giotto was a man of pleasant 
conversation and wit, as well as ready with his pencil. The 
number of his works are very great. There is a picture of his 
in one of the churches of Florence, representing the death of 
the blessed Virgin, with the apostles about her : the attitudes 
of whicli btory ^Mi'c/iacl Angela used to say, could not be bet- 
ter designed. Giotto^ however, did not confine his genius to 
painting : he was a sculptor and architect. In 1327, he formed 
the design of a magnificent monument for Guido Tarlati, bi- 
shop of Arezzo, who had been the head of the Ghibeline faction 
in Tuscany : and, in 1334, undertook the famous tower oiSanc- 
fa Maria delFiore^ for which work, though it was not finished, 
he was made a citizen of Florence, and endowed with a con- 
siderable yearly pension. 

He died in 1336 : and the city of Florence erected a statue 
in marble over his tomb. He had the esteem and friendship 
of most of the excellent men of the age he lived in ; and 
among the rest of Dante and Petrarch. 

Andrea Taffi, and Gaddo Gaddi v.-ere his cotempora- 
ries and the restorers of Mosaic work in Italy ; which the for- 
mer had learnt of /Ippolonius the Greek, and the latter very 
much improved. 

At the same time also was Margaritone, a native of 
Arezzo in Tuscany, who first invented the art of gilding with 
leaf-gold, upon bole-armoniac. 

SiMONE Memmi, born at Sienna, (a city in the borders of 
the dukedom of Florence) A.D. 1285, was a disciple of Gw//c, 
whose manner he improved in drawing after the life. He was 
applauded for his free and easy invention, and began to ui- 
derstand the decorum in his compositions. Died A.D. 1345. 

Taddeo Gaddi, another disciple of Giotto^ born at Flo- 
rence, Anno 1300, excelled his master in the beauty of his 
coloring, and the liveliness of his figures. He was also a 
skilful architect, and much commended for his bridge over 
the river Arno, at Florence. He died A. U. 1350, 



WiLLTAM OF Wykeham, aQ English prelate of most re- 
spectable memory, Mas born at Wykeham in Hampshire, in 
1321-. His parents were peisons of good reputation and cha- 
racter, but in circimistances so mean, that they could not af- 
ford to o-ive their son a liberal education. However, this de- 
ficiencv was supplied by some generous patron, who main- 
tained him at school at Winchester, where he was instructed 
in grammatical learning, and gave proofs of his diligence and 

His being brought to court, and placed there in the king's 
service, is related to have been when he was about two or three 
and twenty years of age : but the first office which he appears 
upon record to have borne, was that of clerk of all the king's 
works in the manors of Henle and Yeshamstead. His patent 
for this is dated the 10th of May, 1356 : and, the 30th of Oc- 
tober following, he was made surveyor of the king's works at 
the castle and in the park of Windsor. It w^as by his advice 
and persuasion, that the king was induced to pull down great 
part of the castle of Windsor, and to rebuild it in the magni- 
ficent manner in which (upon the whole) it now appears ; and 
the execution of this «reat work was committed entirely to 
him. Wykeham had likewise the sole direction of the build- 
ino- of Queenborongh castle ; the difficulties arising from the 
nature of the ground and the lowness of the situation, did 
not discourage liini from advising and undertaking this work ; 
and in the event they only served to display more evidently 
the skill and abilities of the architect. Wykeham acquitted 
himself so well in the execution of these employments, that 
he gained a considerable place in his master's favor, and grew 
daily in his master's affections : nevertheless, his enemies 
o-ave so malicious a turn to an inscription he put on the pa- 
lace at Windsor, as exposed him for a little time to the king's 
displeasure. The words of this inscription are, ** This 
MADE Wykeham;" and have an ambiguous meaning. 
Those who wished him ill interpreted them in the worst 
sense; and hinted to the king, that the chief surveyor of that 
edifice insolently ascribed all the glory of it to himself. His 
majesty being exasperated, reproached Wykeham., but was 
appeased, and even laughed after hearing his answer, 
he replying, with a smiling air, that his accusers must either 
be extremely malicious, or extremely ignorant : ** 1 am," 



said he, ** the creature of this palace : to it I owe the favour 
** with wliich my sovereign induloes me, and who raised me 
** from alow condition to an exalted fortr.e. Such is its import.** 

Henceforth we find the king continually heaping on him 
preferments both civil and ecclesiastical ; for it seems to have 
been all along his design to tuke upon him holy orders, though 
he was not ordained priest till 1362. From his being made 
rector of Pulliam in Norfolk in 1357, which was his hrst, to 
his being raised to the see of Winchester in 1366, his ad- 
vancement in the state all the while kept pace with his pre- 
ferment in the church. In 1359, he was constituted chief 
warden and surveyor of t^?- king's castles of Windsor, Leeds, 
Dover, and Hadlam ; in 1363, warden and justiciary of the 
king's forest, on this side Trent ; keeper of the privy seal in 
1364 ; and within two years after secretary to the king. 

He repaired the palaces and houses belonging to his see, at 
<rreat expei»ce : he made visitations of his whi)le diocese : and 
he was very diligent and active in establishing strict discipline 
and reforming abuses. But, 

The work which demanded his chief attention was, to erect 
his college at Oxford ; the king's patent for the building of 
v.'hich is dated June 30, 1379. He published his> charter of 
foundation the 26th of November following ; by which he en- 
titled his college, *' Seinte Marie College of Wynchestre in 
Oxenford." The building was begun in March following, and 
finished in April 1386. During the carrying on of this work 
at Oxford, he established in proper form his society at Win- 
chester. His charter of found.aion bears date Oct. 20, 1382, 
in which he gives his college the name of" Seinte Mane Col- 
lege of Wynchestre." In 1387, the year after he had com- 
pleted his building at Oxford, he began that at Winchester, 
and finished it in 1393. 

1 his illustrious prelate died at South Waltham, Sept. 27, 
1404; and was buried in his own oratory, in the cathedral 
church of Winchester, in rebuilding and repairing of which 
he had laid out immense sums. 

ToMAso, called GioxriNO, for his affecting, and imitat- 
ing Giotto's manner, born at Florence, Anno 1324, began to 
add strength to his figures, and to improve the art of per- 
spective. Hedi'*d A.D. 1356. 



BuFALMACo (BoNAMico,) an eminent Italian painter, wh© 
was as pleasant in his conversation, as he was ingenious in his 
compositions. A tViencI, whose name was Brutjo, consuhing 
him one day how he might give more expression to his sub- 
ject, Lufalmaco answered, that he had nothing to do, but to 
make the words come out of the mouths of his figures by la- 
be, s, on which tliey might be written. Brimo^ thinking liim 
in earnest, did so, as several foolish painters did after him; 
who, improving upon Bru- Oy added answers to questions, 
and made their figures enter into a kind of conversation. 
Biifulmaco d'wd m I :i40. 

Johannes ab Eyk, commonly called John o^ Bruges, born 
at Maseech, on the river Maez, in the Low Countries, Anno 
1370, was a disciple of his brother Hubert y and a consicU^ra- 
ble painter : but above all things famous for being the (sup- 
po'-ed) hapjjy inventor of the art of painting in oil, Anno 1410, 
(thirty years before printing was found out, by John Gutteni^ 
berg, of Strasburgh.) He died Anno 1441, having some 3ears 
before his decease communicated his invention to 

Antonello of Messina, who travelled from his own coun- 
try into Flanders, on purpose to learn the secret: and return- 
ing to Sicily, and afterwards to Venice, was the first who 
practised, and taught it in Italy. He died Anno JExoX. 49. 

FiLLippo Brunelleschi, born 1377, was the son of Lip' 
po Lapi ; n-as designed for a notary, but very early shewed a 
surprising genius for mechanics, sculpture, and architecture ; 
he first distinguished thethi'ee orders of tiie ancients ; he con- 
ceived the idea of covering St. Mary of Flowers with a dome ; 
he visited Rome, and so absorbedly studied the ancient build- 
ings as to forget his food. Alter a tempest of objections he 
completed his dome to the astonishment of the age. His fame 
was spread throughout Italy ; and his services were every- 
where in request. Died A.D. 1444. 

Leon Battista Alberti, born 1398, was canon of the 
cathedral of Florence, and well vers-.ed in several sciences, and 
especiallv in the fine arts: was one of the principal restorers 
of ancient architecture. He did many works in Florence ; 
others in Rome ; and elsewhcic. But we are principally^ ob- 
liged to him for his tract De Re Edijicatoiia ; or ten books on 
Architecture ; and indeed, says an author, we must render this 



testimony to tlie famous genius oi Albcrti, t/iat nevei'nian ia- 
bored with more success upon sotiresc/iueandsod.fficult amat- 
ter. His family, being illustrious, andajlietl to that of JAyZ/Vv, 
^vrought the first tie of friendsliip with Lorenzo de Mcduis ^ 
xixxA iie coniniimicated to biin Iiis design of stud^-ing the an- 
cient Architecture. Lorenzo de Mtdiirs letters gave him ac- 
cess at the courts of all the princes of Kurope and Asia, Avhere 
there were old ruins, or buildings, which seemed to have been 
magnificent. Albvrti \'\s\ticd them at his ease; took all ilofh' 
measures; anel at his return to Florence, compared the divers 
observations be had mad euitfi the precepts of i iimvi'iis. Then 
}»e bent his studies on optics, pcrceving tf /at the painters 
of his time did not succeed in poriruits in miniature: 
and rendered public, and spared neither indastrv, pains, orex- 
pence, to mstruct vouth in pmctising them. From thence it 
came tliat, in his trme, t])cre was at Florence a greater nui«- 
]jcr of excellent jiainters, sculptors, and architects, than lead 
been known in Greece, even .when she boasted of beincr ibe 
mother and nurse of the liheral arts. 

Masaccio was born in 7'uscany, A.D. 1417, and for his 
copious invention, manner of design, coloring, and graceful 
actions of his figures ; for his draperies, and judgment in per- 
spective, he is reckoned the master of the second, or middle 
age of modijrn painting : which it is thought he would have 
earned to a juticli Ijigher degree of perfection, if death had 
not stopped him in liis career (by poison it was supposed) 
A.1l>. 1443. 

Gentile, and Giovaxni, sons and disciples of Giacomo 
Bellino, were born at Venice, (Gentile^ A. D. 1421.) and 
were so eminent that Gentile w^s sent for to Constantinople, 
by Mahoaiet II. emperor of the Turks : for whom havmg 
(among other things) painted the decollation of St. Jolm 
Biiptist, the emperor, to convince him that the neck, after its 
separation from the body, could not be so long as he had 
made it in his picture, ordered a slave to be brought to him, 
and commanded his head to be struck off, in his presence : 
which so terrified Gentile^ that he cou d never be at rest, till 
he got leave to return home : which the enjperor granted, af- 
ter he had knighted iiim, and nobly rewarded bim for his ser- 
Vol. IV. F part 2 vices. 


vices. The most consideiable works of these hrothersare a> 
Venice, where Gwxanni Wvcd to the aero of 90 years, havin^ 
veiyrarelv paint^xl any thiri<r but Scii|)tnre stories, and reli- 
-gioiis subjects, which he perrornicd so v.ell, as to be esteemed 
the most excellent ot ail the Br/lini. (Jrnfilc died A.D. 1501 . 
^tat. 80. 

ANDRf.A Mantagx.a, bom at Padiui, A.D. 5+31, was 
a disc'ple of Jacopo S'juarcione, was very correct in design, 
admirable in fore-shorteninp^ his fig-iires, well versed in per- 
spective, and arrived irt iVreat kno\v!e(lp;e of anticjuities, hy 
!iis continued aj)p]icuti(>n to the statues, basso-relievos, &c. 
ITowever,his neglect ot'scasouirio his stud'es after the antique, 
'vith the living beauties of nature, hasj^ivcn his pencil some- 
what of liardness and diyness : his drapery i^ generally stiiT, 
(according- to tlie manner of those times) and ptnplexed with 
little folds. lie panited sevt^ral things for Pope Innocent VJII. 
'M'\(\ for other j)rinces, and persons of distinction : but th<^ 
best of his Avorks, and for which he was knighted by the 
marquis Liulorico Gonzaga, of Mantua, are the Triumphs of 
Jnh'its Cteiar, now at Ilamjiton Court, He died A.D. ijl7 ; 
JEtat. 86. having been one of the hrst who practised the art 
of Engraving in Italy: the invention wliereof is justly ascrib- 
ed toMAso FiNiGULRA,a goldsmitli of Florence : who in tiie 
vear 1160, discovered the way of printing off on paper, what 
he had engraved on silver-plate, &c. 

Andrea Verrochio, a Florentine, born A.D. 1 132, was 
well skilled in matlienialics, music, arehiterture, sculpture, 
and painting ; which last, it seems, he quitted on this account: 
~~h\ a piece of St. John baptizing our Saviour, Leonardo da 
Vincij one of his scholars, had by his order painted an angel, 
holding some part of our Saviour's garments ; which so fur 
ifexcelled the )est, that Verrochio, vexed to be outdone by 
a youth, resolved never to use the pencil any more. He dis- 
covered the art of taking the likeness of the face, by molding 
6fF the features in plaster of Paris. He untlerstood casting 
very well, l^he Venetians would have employed him to have 
made abraS^ten statue of Bartolomeo di Bergamo on horseback, 
and be composed a model of it in wax ; but another being pre- 
ferred before him to cast the statue, he was so provoked, that 
he broke olY the head and legs of his model, and fled. The 



senate in vain issued orders to stop hira ; they declared tlicy 
would have liis head cut ofT, if they could catch him ; to 
wbicli he published an answer, that, " if the}- sliouid cut ofl' 
Ijis head, it would be impossible to make another : whereas 
he could easily make anotlier head and a fii-cr one, for the 
model of his horse." lie was afterwards pardoneci and eui- 
{iioyed ; but had not the pleasure of putting the horse \'^ its 
])!ace : for, over-heating himself in casting it, he fell ill of a 
pleurisy, and died A.D. 1488, aged 56. 

LucA SiGxoREi.Li of Cortoua, a city in the dukedom of 
Florence, born A.D. 1439, was a disciple of Fietro dal Bor~ 
go S. Sepiilchro, he was so excellent at designing the naked, 
that from a piece which he painted in the chapel of the great 
church, at Orvieto, M. Angela Biionarriioti transferred se- 
veral entire figures into his last judgment. He died very rich, 
A.D. 1521. He is said to have had such an absolute com- 
mand over his passions, that when his beloved son (a youth 
extremely handsome, and of great hopes) had been unfortu- 
nately killed, and was brought home to him, he ordered his 
corpse to b e carried into his painting-room : and having stript 
him, immediately drew his picture, without shedding a tear. 
PiETRO Di CosiMO, a Florentine, bom A.D. 1441, was a 
disciple of Cosimo Roselli (whose name he retained) and a 
very good painter : but so strangely full of caprices, that all 
his delight was in painting satyrs, fauns, harpies, monsters, 
jiud such like extravagant and whimsical figures: and there- 
fore he apj)lie(l himself, for the most part, to Bacchanalias, 
Masquerades, &c. Died A.D. 1521. 

Bramante of Urbino, born 1444, of poor but honest pa- 
rents ; v.'hen a boy, applied to Design and Painting, but after- 
wards to Architecture. He measured the antiquities of Rome 
and elsewhere : but his productions were nevertheless some- 
what d\y, and shewed the infancy of correct Architecture. 
His greatest work was the church of St. Peter at Rome, which 
he began, and advanced : but left it to be finished by his suc- 
cessors. Died A.D. 1 5 14. 

Leonardo da Vikci, an illustrious Italian painter, and 
universal genius, was descended from a noble family in Tus- 
cany, and born in a castle called Vinci, near Florence, A.D. 
1 445. He was placed under Andrea Verrochia^ but soon sur- 

F 2 passed 


pa^cd him and all Iiis predecessors; and is o\\ ned as the 
master of the third or Qoldea at;c of modern paint ni^. 

Leonardo, quittinp; J'^crroc/iioy did many paintings still to be 
seen at Florence, He beCame in all' respects a most accom- 
plished piirson. Never was painter more knowing in the 
theory of his art. He was well skilled in anatomy, optics, 
and geometry, in the sturiy of nature and her operations: for 
he niaintainefl the knowledge of nature to be the ground- 
work of painting. His genius was universal, he applied him- 
selt to arts, to literature, to accomjiiishnients of the body; 
and he excelled in all. He was a good architect, sculptor, 
and mechanic: he liad a fnie voice, understood music, and both 
played and sung as well as any man of his time. He was a 
well-h)rmed ])erson, and master of all genteel exercises. He 
understood the management of a horse, tookdelight inappear- 
ing well mounted : and was very dextrous in the use of arms. 
His behaviour was polite, and his conversation so infinitely 
taking, that no man ever partook of it without pleasure, or 
left it without rejxret. 

Wis reputation soon spread itself over Italy. Loia's Sforza^ 
duke of Milan, called him to his court, and prevailed with him 
to be a director of the academy for Architecture, he had just 
established : whence Leonardo soon banished the old Gothic 
fashions, and reduced every thing to the principles of the 
Greeks and Romans. YinVQ Louis forming a design of supply- 
ing the city of Milan with waterbva new canal, the execution 
was deputed to Leonardo. To accomplish this vast design, he 
spent much time in the study of philosophy and the mathema- 
tics; 'ipplying with double ardor to those ]iarts whicl) assisted 
him in the work !e had undertaken. At length heacconjplished 
this grea^ work ; rendering hills and vallies navigable with se- 
curity. 'I hiscanaI,namedMortesana,is200niilesinlength ; and 
passes through the Valteline and the valley of Chiavenna, con- 
ducting the waters of the river Adda to the very walls of >Jilan. 
Alter Leonardo had been laboring some years for the service 
tjfMilan, as architect and engineer, he was called by the duke 
toadorn it l)y his paintings : and he painted, amongotli(M-things, 
his celebrated piece of the Last Supper. Francis I. of France, 
was so charmed with this, that, findmg it impracticable to re- 
move it, he procured a copy , which is still at St.Germains; while 



the original, beinj^ painted in oil, on a wall not sufficiently se- 
cured from moisture,has long been defaced. The wars of Italv 
interrupted him ; iiiid his patron, duke Lruis, beino; dcfcatec? 
.md carried prisoner (o France, the academy was destroyed, the 
professors expelled, and the artieffcctuailv banished from Mi- 
Jan. In 1499,thc year before dukeZoww's de.''eat,Z<?o/?tfr</i/bciiig 
at Milan, was desired to contrive somenewdevice for t-lic enter- 
tainment of /,0i«'.fXir. of France, wlu) was ready to make his en- 
trance into that city. Lcominio consented, and made a very 
cnrions automaton : it was the figure of a lion, whose inside was 
so well furnished with machinery, that it niarched out to meet 
the king; made a stand \vl>en it canie before him; reared upon 
Its hinder legs ; and opening its breast, presented an escut- 
cheon, with flower de luces quartered on it. 

When Leonardo ^y\\x\.ei\ Mihm, he retired to Florence ; u here 
he flourished under the patronage of the Medici. In 1503, the 
Florentines resolving to have their council chamber painted, 
Leonardo by a public decree was elected to the office ; and got 
Michael Angdo to assist him in j^ainting one side of it, while he 
himself painted the other. Michael Angela was then a young 
man ; yet had acquired great reputation, and was not afraid 
to vie with Zfo;?f/r(/o. .Jealousy, as is ttsnal, arose between 
them; and each had their partizans, so that at last they became 
open enemies. About this time llaffaelle was led by Leonardo's 
reputation to Florence ; the first view of whose works astonish- 
ed him, and produced in him a reformation, to which all the 
glory he afterwards acquired has been ascribed by some. Leo' 
Wtf?r/o staid at Florence, till 1513; and then went to Rome, 
■wbich it is said he had never 3'et seen. Leo X. then pope, who 
loved painting and the arts, received him graciously, and re- 
solved to employ him : upon which Leonardo set himself to 
the distilling of oils, and preparing of varnishes for his paint- 
ings. Leo, informed of this, said smartly enough, that, " no- 
thing could be expected from a man, who thought oi' fmisji- 
ing his works before he had begun them." 'ihis unlucky bon 
mot, and other little mortihcations,disj)leased him with Rome, 
so that being invited by I'vanci^ I. he removed into France. 
He was above seventy years of age when he undertook this 
journey : and it is probable the fatigues of it, together with 
change of climate, contributed to the distemper of which l-c 
died. He languished several months at Fontainbleau, during 



Avliith time tlic king went frequently to see liim : and one day, 
as lie V as raising Inmsclf up in bed to thank the king for the 
honor done him, be wna suddenly seized with a fainting til; 
and Francis stooping to support I)iin, he expired in the arms 
of that monarch. A. D. 1520. 

He was extremely diiigent in the peribrmance of his works ; 
it was the opinion of RubcnSy that his chief excellence lay in 
giving ev(;ry thing its proper character ; he was wonderfully 
diffident of himself, and left several pieces unfinished ; believ- 
ing, that his hand could never reach that idea which he had 
conceived in his mind. Some of his paintings are in England 
and other couniries, but the greater part of tiicm are in Flo- 
rence and France. He composed discourses on several curious 
subjects, among which were, " A Treatise of the Nature, 
Equilibrium, and Motion of Water;" *' A 'J'reatise of Ana- 
tomy;" " J he Anatoniy of a Horse;" " A Treatise of Per- 
spective;" " A Treatise of Light and Shadows;" and "A 
'J'reatise of Painting." None of these have been published, 
but the *' Treatise of the Art of Painting." 

PiETRO Perugino, SO Called from the place where he was 
born, in the ecclesiastical state, A. D. 1 >46, was a disciple of 
Andrea Vcrrochio. He w as so very miserable and covetous a 
wretch, that the loss of his moncN' by thieves, broke his 
heart, A. D. 1 524. 

DoMENico Ghirlandaio, a Florentine painter, born in 
I4-1-'J, was at first intended for the profession of a goldsmith, 
but followed his more prevailing inclinations to painting, witii 
such success, that he is ranked among th.e prime masters of 
his time. Nevertheless liis manner was Gothic and very dry ; 
and his reputation is not so much fixed by his own works, as 
by his having had Michcid Angela for his disciple. He died at 
44 years of age, and left three sons, David, Benedict, and 
Rhodolph, who were all of them painters. 

Francesco Raibolini, commonly called Frakcia, born 
at Bologna, A.D. 1450, was at first agoldj^mith, or jeweller; 
afterwards an engraver of coins and medals, but at last apply- 
ing to painting, he acquired great reputation : particularly 
by a "^'X. Sebastian, whom he had drawn bound to a tree, witlr 
his hands tied ovc:r his head. In which figure, besides the 
delicacy oi its coloring, and gracefulness of the posture, the 
propurtion xjf its parts was so admirabb, just and true, that 



all the succeed InjT Boiognese Pairitefs (even Hannibal Car- 
raclie himself) studicti its measures as their rule, and followed 
them in the same manner as the ai^cicnts had done the 
canon of Po/ycklns. It was under the discipline of this 
master, that Marc Antonio, naff(tdle\ best graver, learnt the 
rudiments of his art. Count yl/«/ww/ affirms, he lived till 
tlie year {56\): though Vasitri says, he died in 1518; and 
states the occasion of his death to have been a fit of transport, 
that seized him, upon sight of the famous ^-'t. Oxi/ia, Mhich 
IiaffLicUehAd painted, and sent* to him, to put up in one of 
the ciiurclies in Ifelogna. 

Fra Bartolomeo, born at Savignano, a village about ten 
miles from Florence, A.D. 1469, was a disciple of Cosimo 
Iio?cIii : but much more beholden to the works of Leonardo 
da Vixciiov his extraordinary skill in painting. He was well 
versed in the fundamentals of design : and had besides, so many 
laudablequalities,that Raffaclle, after he had quitted the school 
of Pe)-ugiAo, applied himself to this master, und under him 
studied perspective, and the art of managing his colors. He 
turned Dominican Friar, A.D. 1500, and after some time, 
was by his superiors sent to the convent of St. Mark^ ui Flo- 
rence. He pai Sited both portraits and hisftories, but v\-ou d 
hardly ever dra-.v naked figures, though nobody understood 
them better. He died A.D. 1517, and was t'Hi first v/ho in- 
vented and made use of a lay-man. ' 

Albert Durer, descended from an Hungarian famiiv, and 
born at Nuremberg, Mav 20, 1471, was one of the best en- 
gravers and painters of his age. Having made a slight begin- 
ning in the shop of his father, who was agoldsm;th, he asso- 
ciated himself with an indiribrent painter, named Maitin 
Ilupse, who taught him to engrave on copper, and to ma- 
nage colors. Albert learned likewise arithmetic, perspective, 
and geometry : and then, at twenty-six years of age, exhibited 
some of his works to the public : his first v.'as the Gr;.c^s, 
naked, perfectly well shaped ; over their heads a globe, dated 
1497. He engraved theiife of Christ inthirty-six pieces, which 
were so highly esteemed, that Marc A }r1oino Frajin copied 
them. ^((75^/7' relates, that having counterfeited them on cop- 
per-plates \vith rude engraving, as Albert /.hirer had done on 
wood, and pul the mark used by Albert, (A.D.) thev were so 



]ike his, that thev were thought to be AlbcrCs^ and sold as 
such. Albert receiving one of the counterfeits, was so enraged 
that be immediutely went to Venice, and complained oi Marc 
Anlonio to the government : be obtained no other satisfaction, 
but that J/tf;c Antonio should not for the future put Aihat^i 
naiTie and mark to his works. 

Few of I)uier\s pictures are to be met with, except in the 
palaces of princes. 

The particular account, whiclj we find in Vasari, of bis en- 
gravings, is curious : and it is no small compliment to him, 
to have this Italian au h : own, that tlte printsof Dunrhcxn^r 
brought to Italv, excited the painters there to perfect that 
part of the art, and served them for excellent models. Durcr 
had an inexhaustible fund of designs: and, as he could not 
execute th(m all on copper, since every piece so done cost 
bim a deal of time, he bethought himself of working on 
wood. The two fust pieces he executed in ti)at way are the 
beheading of John BaptlM^ and tlie head of that saint pie- 
sentcd to Herod in a charger: these were published in 1510. 
One of his best pieces is St. J-Custachius kneeling before a 
stag which has a crucifix betweeti its horns. 

'J'hc emperor MaxhnUian bad a great ail'ection for DurWy 
treated bim with a particular rcg.ird, gave liim a good pen- 
sion, and letters of nobility; and Charles V. and his brother 
Fcrdwand, king of Ihingarv, followed A/uiimi/tujfs example 
in f<ivor and liberality to him. This eminent man died at 
TMureniberg, in April 6, 1628, and was interred in the church- 
3 ard at St. John's church, where his good friend Pirckheuner 
erected a very honorable sepulchral in, cription to him. He 
was married, and some writers saV, that he had a Xanfippe for 
his wife, while others relate, that in painting the Virgin, he 
took her face for his model : it is not impossible that both 
\he&e accounts may be true. He was a man of most agreea- 
ble conversation, and a lover of mirth; yet he was virtuous 
and w se, and to his honor be it said, never employed his art 
in obscene represtMitations, though it seems to have been the 
fashion of his times. 

He wrote several books, which wercpublished after hisdeath. 
His book upon the rules of painting, intitled, *' Do Symme- 



tria partiuni in rectis foi mis humanorum corpornm," is onepf 
tliem. As he had hard work to please himself, he proceed- 
ed slowly in it, and did not live to see the edition of it finish- 
ed : his friends however finished it according to his directions. 
It was printed at Nuremberg in folio, 1532, and at Paris iii 
1557. An Italian version also was published at Venice in 
J 591. His other works are, "InstitutionesGeometricae, Paris, 
1532." " De urbibiis, arcil)us, castellisque condendis & mu- 
niendis, Paris, 1531." " De varietate figurariim, et flexuris 
partiun), ac gestibns imaginum, Nuremberg, 1534." A dis- 
course of his concerning tlie symmetry of the parts of an 
liorse, was stolen from him; and though he "well knew the 
thief, yet he chose ratlier to bear the loss contentedly, than 
to deviate from his natural moderation and mil<^ness, as he 
must have done, if he had prosecuted him. 

It is necessar}' to observe, that Durer, being no scholar, 
wrote all his works in High-Dutch ; Avhich were translated 
into Latin by other hands. 

Michael Angelo Buonarruoti, an illustrious painter, 
sculptor, and architect, a^ asbornat the castle of Chiusi, in the 
territory of Arezzo in Tuscany, 1474. He was put to nurse 
in the village of Setliniano, a place noted for the resort of 
, sculptors, of whom Ins nurse's husband A\as one; which gave 
occasion to a well-known saying, that Miehael Angelo sucked 
in sculpture Avitli liis milk. His violent inclination to design 
obliged his parents to place him with Dominko Ghirlanduio ; 
and the progress he made raised the jealousy of his school- 
felloAvs so much, that Torrigiano, one of them, gave him a 
blow on the nose, the marks of which he carried to his grave. 
He erected an academy of painting and sculpture at Florence, 
under the protection of Lorenzo de MedieiSy who was a lover 
of the arts; but on the troubles of the house of Medicis^ he 
was obliged to remove to Bologna. About this time he made 
a statue of Cupid , [some say of Bacchus,'] carried it to Rome, 
broke off one of its arms, and buried it ; keeping in the mean 
time the broken arm by him. The Cupid, being found, was 
sold to the cardinal of St. Gregory for antique: but Michael 
Angelo discovered the fallacy, by shewing the arm he had re- 
served for that purpose, ^is reputation was so great at Rome, 
Vol. IV. G part 2 that 


that he was omployed bv Pope Si.iius to paint his chapel. I?((f. 
facile croidi si<rlit of this paintino- by stealth, before it was 
finished, and found the desisjn to be of so great a g'lsto, t!uit 
he resolved to nuike h;s advantage of it: and in the first pic- 
ture whit:!) Juijfat'lle produced afterwards, Avhich was that of 
the prophet Isaiah, for the church of M. Austm, Michael 
Ans,<lo discovered the theft. Upon the death of pope JuHus 
II. he went to Florence, where lie made that admirable piece 
of s.cul|)tnre, the tomb of the duke ot Florence. He « as in- 
terrupted bv the wars, the citizens obliging him to v.ork on 
the fortihcations of this pity ; but foreseeing that tiieir pre- 
cautions would be u^eless, he removed from Florence toFer- 
rara, and th^Mice to Venice. The doge Grilti would fain 
have entertained Imn in his service ; but v\\ he could get of 
hm>, was a desigr; of the bridge Kialto. By the command of 
pope Pom/ III. he painted that mo-t celebrated of all his pieces, 
the iast iudgment; for which he had a reward suitable to liis 
merits He died immensely rich at Ron)e in 1564, aged 90; 
but Coiano di Midicis had his body brought to Florence, and 
buried in the church of Sancta Cri ce, where his tomb is to be 
seen in marble, consisting of three figures, Painting, Sculp- 
ture, and Arcliitecture. 

Michael Angela lias the name of the greatest designer that 
ever was: and it is uuivei sally allowed, that never any pain- 
ter in the world understood anatomy so well. He took incre- 
dible pains to reach the perfection of his art. He loved soli- 
tude, and used to say, that " Painting was jealous, and re- 
quired the whole man to herself" Being asked, *' ^\'hv■ lie 
did not marrv?" He answered, " Painting was his wife, and 
liis works his children." In Architecture also, he not on.y 
surpassed all the moderns, but, as some think the ancients 
too ; for which they bring as proofs, the St. Petcr^s of Rome, 
the St. John\ of Floiencc, the Capitol, the Palazzo lanicsc, 
and his own house. As a painter he is said to have been e.v- 
travao-ant and fantastical in his compositions ; to have over- 
charged his design ; to have tal.en too many libeities against 
the rules of perspective ; and to have understood but little of 
coloring. Nevertheless his reputation was well earned, and 
is still undiminished. 



GiORGiONE, SO called from his noble and comely aspect, 
vas an illustrious painter, born at Caste! Franco in Trevisano, 
a province in the state of Venice, 'n 1478. He was of an in- 
different parentage, yet had a line genius and a large soul. 
He was bred in Venice, and first applied to music ; aft^r this, 
he devoed himself to ])ainting, und received instructions 
from Giovanni Bellino ; but afterwards studying the works of 
Leonardo da rinci, he attained a manner of painting superior 
to tiiem both. He designed with greater Ireedom, colored 
with more strength and beauty, gave a better relievo, mcjre 
life, and a nobler spirit to his figures ; and was the first among 
the Lombards, who found out the admirable effects of strong 
lights and shadows. Titian was extremely pleased with his 
bold and terrible gusto ; and intending to make his advantag<?. 
of it, frequently visited him, under pretence of keeping up 
the friendship they had contracted at their master htUtno''s : 
but Gioi-gione, growing jealous of his intentions, contri\ed to 
forbid him his house as handsomely as he could. Upon this, 
Titian became his rival. Titian thought, that Giorgio72er had 
passed the bounds of truth ; and though he imitated in some 
things the boldness of his coloring, yet he tamed, as one may 
say, the fierceness of his colors, which were too savage. He 
tempered them by variety of tints, to make his objects more 
natural : notwithstanding this, Giorgione maintained his cha- 
racter for the greatness of his gusto ; and it is allowed, that 
if Titian has made several painters good colorists, Giorgione 
first shewed them the way to be so. He excelled both in his- 
tor}- and portraits. The greatest of his performances is at 
Venice, on the front of a house wherein the German mer- 
chants meet, on the side towards the grand canal. He did 
this in competition with Titian^ who painted another side ; 
but both these pieces are almost entirely ruined by age. His 
most valuable piece in oil is, that of our Saviour carrying his 
cross, in tl>e church of San Hovo at Venice ; where it is held 
in wonderful esteem. He worked much at Castel Franco and 
Trevisano ; and many of his pieces were bought up and ear- 
ned to foreign pares, to shew that Tuscany alone had not the 
prize of painting. Some sculptors in his time took occasion 
to praise sculpture beyond painting, because one might walk 
round a piece of sculpture, and view it on all sides j Avhereas 

G 2 a paint- 


a paintiii!fy, said they, could never represent but one side of a 
b')dy at once. Giorgiune hearing this, said they were ex- 
treaieiy mistaken; for that he would undertake to do a piece 
of i>amting, which should shew the front, the hind parts, and 
thesues, without putting spectators to the trouble of going 
round it, as sculptors do to view a statue : and he accom- 
plished it thus — He drew the picture of a young man going 
to bathe, shewing his back and shoulders, with a fountain of 
clear watci' at his feet, in which there by reflection 
all his foreparts : on the left side of him, he placed a bright 
shining armour, which he seemed to have put off, and in the 
lustre of that, all the left side was seen in profile : and on his 
right he placed a large looking-glass, which rejected his right 
side to view. 

He fell in love with a young beauty at Venice, who was 
no less charmed with him; she was seized with the plague : 
but, not suspecting it to be so, admitted the visits oi Gior- 
gione^ wiieve the infection seized hiuj. '^^1 hey both died in 
151 1, "he being no more than 33. 

7'iTiAN, or TiTiANO, the most universal genius of all the 
Lombard schooi, the best colorist of all the moderns, and the 
most eminent for histories, landscapes, and portraits, was born 
atCadore in Friuii, a province in the state of V^enice, in 1477, 
being descended from the ancient family of the Vecelli. At 
ten yeiirs of age, his parents sent him to one of his uncles at 
Venice, who observing in him an inclination to painting, put 
him to the school Oi Giovanni Bellino ; where he improved him- 
self more by the emulation between himself and his fellow dis- 
ciple GiorgionCjt\y<.ixv by the instruction of his master, lie was 
censured indeed by Michad Angela Biwnarruoti, for want of 
correctness in design (a fiiult common to all the Lombard pain- 
tei .s,who were not aprjuainted with the antique, )yet that defect 
was abundantly supplied in all other parts of a most accom- 
plished artist, lie made three several portraits of the em- 
peror Charles V. Avho honored him with knighthood, created 
liim count palatine, made his descendants pentkincn, and 
assigned him a considerable ijciision out of the chamber at 
Naples. The love of Charles V. for Titian was as great as tliat 
of Francis I. fur Leonardo da Vinci ; and many particulars of 
it are recorded. It is said, that the emperor one day.took up a 



pencil, which fell from the hand of this artist, wlio was then 
drawing his picture; and that, npon the compliment which 
Titian made him on this occasion, he replied, " Tilian has 
merited to be served hy Casar^ In short, some lords of the 
emperor's court, not being able to conceal their jealousy upon 
the preference he gave of Titian's person and conversation to 
that of all his other courtiers, the emperor freely told them, 
" that he could never want a court of courtiers, but could not 
*' have Z'/Zm/j always with him." Accordingly he heaped riches 
on him ; and whenever he sent him money, which was usually 
a large sum, healways did it with this obliging testimony, that 
*' his design was not to pay him the value of his pictures, be- 
* 'cause they were above any price." He painted also his sonPhi- 
lipll. Solyman, emperor of theTurks, two popes, three kings, 
t\A o empresses, several queens, and almost all the princes of 
Italy, together with the famous ^r/Wo and Peter Aretine^ Avho 
were his intimate friends. Nay, so great wasthenameand re- 
putation of Titian, that there was hardly a person of any emi- 
nence then living inEurope, from whom hedidnotreceive some 
particular mark of esteem: and besides, being of a temper 
wonderfully obliging and generous, his house at Venice was 
the constant rendezvous of all the virtuosi and people of the 
best qualit3\ He was so happy in the constitution of his body, 
that he had never been sick till the year 1576 ; and then he died 
of the j)lague, aged ninety-nine, a very uncommon age for a 

Titian left behind him two sons and a brother, of whom 
Pomponio, the eldest, was a clergyman, and well preferred. 
Horatio, the 3 oungest, painted several portraits, which might 
stand in competion with those of his father. He was famous 
also for many history pieces, Avhich he made at Venice, in 
concurrence with Paul Veronese, and Tintorct. But bewitched 
atlast with chemistry, and in hopes of finding the philosopher's 
stoPic, he laid aside the pencil ; reduced what he got by his 
father into smoak, and died of the phiguethesameyearwithhim. 

Francesco Vecelli, Titian^s brother, was trained to arms 
in the Italian wars ; but peace being restored, applied himself 
afterwards to painting. He became so great a proficient in it, 
that Titian grew jealous of him ; and fearing, lest in time he 
should eclipse his reputation, sent him on pretended business 
to Ferdinand king of the Romans. Afterwards he fell into 



anr^ther profession, and made cabinets of ebony adorned with 
figuies; wJiich, liowever, did not binder him IVom [)ainti!i'>- 
now and then a portrait. 

Andrea del Sarto, (so called because a tavlor'ii son) born 
at Fiorence, A.D. 1478 ; was a disciple of Pietro di Coshno^ 
very careful and diligent in his works; and his color'ng was 
Avonderfuily sweet: but hispictu.res oenerally wanted strength 
and life, as well as their author, who Avas naturally miki, ti- 
morous, and poor-sp'ritud. He wassentforto Paris, by /V£r??<:7'5 
I. where he might iiave gatlu-red g'-eat riches, but that his 
wife and relations would not su'dV r him to continue long there. 
He lived in a mean and contemptible condition, l)ccausc he 
set but a very little value upon his own performances: yet 
the Florentines had sogreat anesteemfor hisworks,thatduring 
the fury of the popular factions among them, they preserved 
his pieces from the flames, when they neither spared chuiches, 
nor anv thing else. He died of the plague, A.D. 1520. 

Haphael, or Raffaklle, an illustrious painter of Italy, 
was born at Urbino, on Good Friday 1483. His fatiier was an 
ordinary painter : his master Pietro Perugino. Having a 
penetrating understanding and a fine genius,he soon perceived 
that t'le perfection of his art vwis not confined to Peruiiiud's 
capacity ; and therefore went to Siena. Here Pinturicliio got. 
him to be employed in making the cartoons for the pictures 
of the librarv ; but he had scarcely finished one, before lie 
Avas ternpted to remove toFlorence by the fame which Leonar- 
do da riiici\sdi\d Michael ///^e^'/oV works obtained at that time, 
Wlien he had cotisidered the manner of those illustrious pain- 
ters, he resolved to alter his own, which he had learned of 
Perugino. H:s ])uins and care were incredible ; and he suc- 
ceeded accordingly. He formed his gusto after the 
ancent st.itues and has reliefs, which he designed a long 
time with extreme application ; and, besides this, he 
hired people in Greece and It.dv, to design for him all the 
antiques that couid be found. 'Fhus, he raised himself to the 
top ol his profession. By general consent he is acknowledged 
to have been the prince of modern painters, and is often ^ tiled " the divine liafat/lt.'' 

Jin (fa lit was not only tlie best painter in the world, but 
perhaps tiie best architect also : Leo X. charged him with the 
buiiding of St. Pctcfs at Rome. He was one of the hand- 


somestand best tempered men living: so tlut, with all these 
natural and acquired accomplJsliinenis, it cannot be uondeied 
at, that he was not onlv beloved in the iiij^'iest dt^gice ay the 
])opi:sJu/ius II, and Leo X. at honi«, butaJnureJ and courtod 
by all the princes and stales of Kurope. He lived in state aiid 
splendor, n:\ost of the eminent masters in his time bemg ambi- 
tious of working under him ; and he never went out without 
a crowd of artistsand others, whoattended him purely tlirough 
respect. Cardinal Bibiann offered him his niece lu marriape, 
and Raff'iellc engaged himself; but, Leo X. having given 'nra 
Jiopes of ii cardinal's hat, he made no haste to n.arry her. ILs 
passion for the fair sex destroyed him in the ho'^ er of his af^e. 

He died on his birth-day in j520. Cardinal Bcmbo wrote 
his epitaph, which is to be seen upon his tomb in the church 
of the Rotunda at Home, where he wa^ buried. 

Hie hie est Raphael, timuit quo sospite vinci 
Rerum magna parens, et moriente niori. 

Raffitelle had many scholars ; but Julio Romano was his fa- 
vorite, because he did him most credit. Pouss.n used to say 
of Raffaelle, that " he was an angel compared with the mo- 
dern painters, but an ass in comparison of the ancients." 

Gio. Antonio Regillo da Pordenone, born at a pLce 
so called; not far from Udine,iri the Vci.eiian territories, A. 1). 
1434, after some time spent in letters and music, appHed anu- 
self to painting ; yet without any other guide to conduct him, 
beside his o\\ n j)rompt and lively genius, and the works of 
Giorgione : v. Inch he studied at Venice with so much attvntion, 
that he soon arrived to a manner of coloring nothing mfeiior 
to his pattern. Butthat which tended yet mure to his luipi me- 
nient,wasthe continued emulation betwixt himself and 7 ///V/a?, 
with whom he disputed the superiority ; and for of be iig 
insulted by his rival, painted (\vhile he was at Venice) wit.i 
a sword by his side. This noble jealousy inspired him with an 
elevation of thought, quickened his invention, and produceJ^ 
several excellent pieces in oil, distemper, and fresco, t'lom Ve- 
iiice he went to Genoa, where he undertook some tilings in 
competition with Pierinodel I'aga: but not bemg able to con>e 
np to the perfections of Pierino\ pencil, lie returned to V •- 
nice, and afterwards visited several other parts of Lombai cl ; 
waskiiighted by the emperor Charles V. and utlast o-i ig seit 



for to Ferara, was so much esteemed there, that he is said to 
have been poisoned (A.D. 1540,) by some \\ ho envied the 
fevors which he received from the duke. He renounced his 
family name Licinio, out of hatred to one of h s brotliers, v.ho 
attempted to murder him. 

Sebastian© del Piombo, a native of Venice, A.D. I4S5, 
was so named from an office given him by pope Clement VII. 
in the lead mines. He Avas designed by his fatiier for the pro- 
fession of music, which he practised for some time, with re- 
putation ; till followir)g at last the more ]jower}ul dictates of 
nature, he betook himself to painting, and became a disciple 
of old Gio. Bellino : continued his studies under (riorgione ; 
and having attained his excellent manner of coloring, Mcnt 
to Rome ; where he insinuated himself so far into the favor 
of Michael Angela, by siding with him and his party against 
Itaffaelle, that pleased with the sweetness and beauty of his 
pencil, he furnished him with some of his own designs, and 
letting them pass under Scbastian\^ name, cried him up for the 
best painter in Rome. And indeed so universal was the ap- 
plause ■which he gained by his piece of Lazarus raised from 
the dead, (the design of which i)adbeen given him by Michael 
Angela) that nothing blit the famous transfiguration of Baf- 
Jaelle could eclipse it. He has the name of being the first who 
invented the art of preparing plaister-walls, for oil-painting 
(with a composition of pitch, mastick, and quicklime) but was 
generally so slow, and lazy in his performances, that other 
haiids were oftentimes employed in finishing what he had be- 
gun. He- died A.D. 1547. 

Bar-Tolomeo (in the Tuscan dialect called Baccio) Ban- 
DiNELLi, a Florentine painter and sculptor, born A.D. 14S7 ; 
was a disciple of Gio. Francesco Busfici, and by the help of 
anatomy, joined with other studies, became a very excellent 
and correct designer : but in the coloring part was so unfortu- 
nate, that after he had heard Michael Angela condenm it, tor 
being hard and unpleasant, he never could be prevailed ujton 
to make any farther use of his pencil: but always engaged 
some other hand in coloring his designs. However, in sculp- 
ture he succeeded better; and for a descent from the cross, in 
mezzo-relicvo, was knighted by the emperor. He was like- 
wise much in favor with Francis I. and acrjuired great rej)u- 



tation by several of his figures, and abundance of dra^vings : 
which yet are more admired for their true outline, and pro- 
portions, than for grace. He died A.D. 1559. 

Julio Romano, born A.D. 1492, was the greatest arti t, 
and most universal painter, of all the disciples of Raffaelle ; 
was beloved by him, as if he had been his son, for the won- 
derful sweetness of his temper; and made one of his heirs; 
upon condition that he should assist in finisliing what he hi d 
left imperfect. JRaffaellc died 1 520, and Romano continued in 
Rome some years after; but the deatli of Leo X. which hap- 
pened in 1522, would have been a terrible blow to him, if 
Leo's successor Hadrian VI. had reigned long : for Hadrian 
had no taste for the arts; and all the artists must have starved 
imderhis cold aspect. Clement V[I. however, who succeeded 
Hadrian, encouraged painters and painting ; and set Romano 
to work in the hall oi Constant ine, and afterwards in other public 
places. But his principal performances were at Mantua, where 
he was sent for by the marquis Frederico Gonzaga; and in- 
deed his good fortune directed him thither at a critical time : 
for, having made the designs of twenty lewd prints, which 
Marc Antonio engraved, and for which Arctine made inscrip- 
tions in verse, he would have been severely punished, if he had 
staid in Rome : for Antonio, was thrown into goal, and would 
have lost his life, if the Cardinal de Medicis had not interposed. 
la the mean time^ Romano at Mantua, left lasting proofs of his 
great abilities, as well in architecture, as in pamting : by a 
noble and stately palace, built after his model, and beautified 
with variety of paintings after his designs. In architecture he 
was so eminently skilful that he was invited back toRome,with 
an offer of being the chief architect of St. Peter's church ; 
but while he was debating with himself upon the proposal, 
death carried him off, as it had done Raffaelle, who was romi- 
nated byZcoX. to the same noble office. He died in 154f, 

This painter had an advantage over the generality of his 
order, by his great superiority in letters. He was profoundly 
learned in antiquity ; and, by convei*sing with the works of 
the most excellent poets, particularly Homer, had made him- 
self an absolute master of the qualifications necessarily re- 
quired in a grand designer. 

Vol, IV. H part 2 Jacopo 


Jacopo Caruci, called Puntormo, from the place of hi? 
birtiijAD. 1493, studied under Leonardo da Imci, Marioito 
Alhertinelli^ Putro diCosimc, nud Andrea delSarto: but chiefly 
followed tlic manner of tlie last, both in design and coloring. 
He was of so imliappy a tem})er of mind, that though hisworks 
had stood the test even of Rajf'acllc and Michael Angela (the 
best Judges) yet he coidd never order them so as to please liim- 
self: and wat. so far from bemg satisfied with any thing he had 
ever done, that he wiis in great danger of losing the grace- 
fulness of his own manner, by imitating that of other (inferior) 
masters,and particularly the style of Albert Durer'n\ his p; mts. 
He spent most of his time at Florence, where he painted the 
chapel of St. Laurence : but was so wonderl'ully tedious about 
it, that in the space of eleven years he would admit no body 
to see what he had performed. He was also of so mean and 
pitiful a spu-it, that he chose rather to be employed by ordinary 
people, for inconsiderable gains, than b\' princes and noble- 
men, at more liberal rates; so that he died poor, A.D. 15j6 
Giovanni d'Uhine, so named from the place where he 
was born (being the metroijolis of Frioul) A.D. 1494; was 
instructed bv G/ar^w;ie' at Venice, and at Rome became a 
disciple oi RaffacUe: and is celebrated, for having been the re- 
viver of stucco-work, (a composition of lime and marble pow- 
der) in use among the ancient Romiiiis, and discovered in the 
subterraneous vaults of I itus's palace ; which he restored to its 
original splendor and perfection. He wasemployed hyRaffaelley 
in adorning the apartments of the Vatican ; and afterwards by 
several priiices, and cardinals, in the chief ]>alaces of Rome 
and Florence: and by the agreeable variety and richness of 
his fancy, and his peculiar happiness in expressing all sorts of 
animals, fruit, flowers, and still Hfc, both in basso relievo, and 
colors, acquired the reputation of being the best mast<>r in the 
world, for decorationsand ornaments in stucco, and grotesque. 
He died A.D. 156 1, and was buried, according to his desire, 
in the Rotunda, near his dear master Raffadlc. 

Antonio da Correggio, a most extraordinary painter, so 
called from Correggio, a town in the dukedom of Modona , 
where he was born in 1494. He was a man of such adniifable 
natural parts, that nothing but the unhappinee* of his educa- 
tiou hindered him from lacing the best painter in the world. 



' For his-circumstiinces aHorded him no opportunities of study- 
ing cither at Rome or Florence: or ofconsultinf^ the antiques 
for perfecting himself in design. Nevertheless he had a ge- 
nius so subiimc, and a pencil so soft, tender, beautiful, and 
charming, that Julio Romano having rcen a Leda and a Venus 
painted l)v hini, for Firikric, duke oi Modtva, u ho intended 
them as a present to the emperor, he declared he thought it 
impossible for colors to go beyond them. Raffadlc% fame 
temi)ted him at length to go to Rome. He considered atten- 
tivel}' the pictures of that great painter; and after having 
looked on them a long time in silence, he said, " Ed io.anche 
son pittore," " I also am a painter." His chief works are at 
Modena and Parma. At the latter place he painted two 
4arge cupolas in fresco, and some altar-pieces. 'J'his artist is 
remarkable for having borrowed nothing from the works of 
•others. Every thing is new in hi? pictures, his conceptions, 
his design, his coloring, his pencil; and his novelty is good. 
His outlines are not correct, but their gusto is great. His 
landscapes are equally beautiful with his figures. 

Correggio spent the greatest part of his life at Parma ; and 
notwithstanding, the many fine pieces he made, and his high 
reputation, it is said by some (but denied by others) that he 
was extremely poor, and obliged to work hard for the main- 
tenance of his family, which was large. He was humble, mo- 
dest, and devout, and died much lamented in 1534, when he 
was but 40 years of age. The reported cause of his death was 
a little singular, (iomg to receive 50 crowns for a piece he 
had done, he was paid it in a sort of copper money, called 
quadrinos. This was a great weight, and he had 12 miles to 
carry it, though it wiis in the midst of summer. He was over 
licaied and fatigued ; in which condition, indiscr^etely drink- 
jiig cold water, he brought on a pleurisy, which put an end 
to his life. — There is reason to think this report is not true, 
but that he lived and died in comfort if not in splendor. 

Battisto Franco, his cotemporary, a native of Venice, 
Avas a disciple of J//t7?f/tV jingelo; whose manner he followed 
so close, that in the correctness of his outline he surpassed most 
of the .masters in his time. His paintings are pretty numer- 
ous, xintl dispersed all over Italy, and other parts of Europe ; 
but his coloring being very dry, they are not much more es- 
tccn>cd than the prints which he etched. He died A.D. 1561. 

H 2 Lucas 


Lucas van Lev den, so called from the place where he was 
born, A.l). 1494, Avas at first a disciple of his father, a painter 
of note; and afterwards of ComeliiK< Engelberl : and wonder- 
fully esteemed in Holland, and the Low Countries, for his 
kill in painting, and in cne^raving. He was prodigiously la- 
borious, and a great emulator of Albert Durcr ; witli whom 
he became at length so intimate, that they drew each other's 
picture. And indeed their manner, and stile, are so much 
alike, that it seemed as if one soul had animated them both. 
He was magnificent both in his habit, and way of living . 
and died A.I). 1533, after an interview betwixt him and some 
other painters, at Middleburgh : where disputing, and falling 
out in their clips, Lucas, fancying they had poisoned him, lan- 
guished by degrees, and in six years' time pined a\^ a\', purely 
Avith conceit. 

QuiNTiN Matsys, sometimes called the farrier of Ant- 
werp, famous for having been transformed from a blacksmith 
to a painter, by the force of love. He had followed the tfade 
of a blacksmith and farrier near twenty years; when falling 
in love with a painter's daughter, who was handsome, and dis- 
liked nothing in him but his profession, he quitted his trade, 
and betook himself to painting : in which art, assisted by a 
good natural taste, a master, and the power of love into the 
bargain, he made a very uncommon and surprising progress. 
He was a painful and diligent imitator of ordinary life, and 
much better at representing the defects than the beauties of 
nature. One of his best pieces is a descent from the cross, in 
the chapel at the cathedral of Antwerp: by which, and a mul- 
titude of other histories and ])ortraits, he gained a crowd of 
admirers; especially for his labourious neatness, whicii in 
truth was the principal part of his character. He died old iij 
1529. His works are dispersed throughout Europe. 

Car A V AGIO de Polidoro, so called from the place of his 
bi^th, in the duchy of Milan, where he was born A.D. 1495. 
He went to Rome at the time when Leo X. was raising new 
edifices in the Vatican ; and, not knowing how to get his 
bread otherwise, for he was very young, he hired himself to 
carry stones and mortar for the masons there at work. He 
drudged this way till he was eighteen, when it happened, that 
several young painters were empkyedby RaffaeUe'm the same 



place tocx'ccutehisdesigns. Polidoro, who often carried them 
mortar to make their fresco, was touched with the sight of the 
paintings, and solicited by his genius to turn painter. At first 
jje aitached himself to the works of Giovanni (CUdini ; and 
the pleasure he took to see that painter work, stirred up his 
talent for painting. In this disposition, he was very officious to 
t!ie young painters, and opened to them his intention : where- 
upon they gave hipi lessons, which emboldened him to pro- 
ceed. He applied himself with all his might to designing, 
and advanced so prodigiously, that Raffaelle was astonished, 
and set him to work witii the other young painters, and he 
disiingushed himseif so much from all the rest, that, as he 
had the greatest share in executing his master's designs in the 
Vatican, so he had the greatest glory. The care he had seen 
Jhip/iacl tiiki- , in designingthe antique sculptures, shewed him 
the way to do the like. He spent whole days and nights in 
designing those beautiful models, and studied antiquity to the 
nicest exactness. He did very few easel pieces ; most of his 
productions being in fresco, and in imitation of basso relievos. 
He made use of a manner called scratching, consisting in the 
preparation of a black ground, on which is placed a white 
];laster : and by taking oft" this wh'te with an iron bodkin, 
the black .ippears and serves for shadows : scratched work 
lasts long, but, being very rough, is unpleasant to the sight. 
He associated himself at first with Maturino, and their friend- 
ship lasted till the death of the latter, who aied of the plao-ue, 
in 1.526. 

After this, PoUduro^ having filled Rome with his pieces, 
thought to have enjoyed his ease, and the fruits of his labors, 
w^hen the Spaniards in 1527 besieging that city, all the artists 
were foieed to By, or were ruined by the miseries of the war. 
In this exigence, Polidoro retired to Naples, where he was 
obliged to work for ordinary painters. Seeing himself with- 
out business, and forced to spend what he had got at Rome, 
he went to Sicily ; and, understanding architecture as \\g\\ as 
painting, the citizens of Messina employed him to make the 
triumphal arches for the reception of Charles V. coming 
from Tunis. This being finished, he thought of returning to 
Rome, and drew his money out of the bank of Messina; 
which his servant understanding, the night before his depar- 


tare, confederated with other rogues, seized him in his bed, 
strant2:led him, and stabbed him. This done, they carried the 
bodv to the door of his mistress, that it might be thought lie 
M'as killed tliere by some rival, 'J'he assassins fled, and every 
body pitied his untmiely fate. Among others his servant, in 
the general sorrow, without fear of any one's suspecting 
him, came to niake lamentations over him ; when a Sicilian 
Count, one of Polidoro's friends, watching him, observed his 
grief not to be natural, and thereujx)n had him taken up on 
susp cion. He made a very bad defence ; and, being put to 
the torture, confessed all, and was condemned to be drawn to 
pieces by four horses. The citizens of Messina expressed a 
hearty concern for Pclidord's untimeh- end, and interred Ihs 
corpse honorably in the cathedral churcl). When this befel 
him he was in his 48th year, A.D. i543. 

PoUdor^^s genius was lively and fruitful ; and his studying 
the antique basso relievos made him incline to represent bat- 
tles, sacrifices, vases, trophies, and those ornaments wliich are 
most remarkable in antiquities. But, what is altogether sur- 
prising, is, that, notwithstanding his great application to an- 
tique sculptures, he perceived the neccssit}' of the claro ob- 
jKcuro in painting. Ido not fiiul this was known in the Roman 
school before his time : he invented it, made it a principle of 
the art, and put it in practice. The great masses of lights and 
shadows which are in his pictures sl>ew he Avas convinced that 
the eye of a spectator wanted repose, to view a picture with 
ease. It is from this principle that, in the friezes which he 
painted with white and black, his objects are grouped so art- 
fully. His love of the antique did not hinder his studying na- 
ture; and his gusto of design, which was great and correct, 
ivas a mixture of the one and the other. His hand was easy and 
cxeellen-t, and the airs of his heads bold, noble, and expres- 
sive. His thoughts were sublime, his dispositions full of atti- 
tudes well chosen ; his draperies well set, and his landscapes 
of a good taste. His pencil was light and soft ; but after the 
death of Rajfaelle he very seldom colored his pieces, applying 
himself altogether to work in fresco in claro obscuro. 

Rosso (so called from his red hair) born at Florence, A.D. 
J1496 ; was educated in the study of philosophy ,music, poetry, 
architecture, &.c. and having learned the fust rudiments of de- 



sign from the Cartoons of Michael Angelo^ improved himself 
by the help of anatomy; which he understood so avcII, that 
he composed two books on that subject. He had a copious 
invention, great skill in the mixture of his colors, and in the 
distribution of iiis lights and shadows ; was very happy also in 
his naked figures, which he expressed with a good relievo,and 
proper attitufes ; and wouhi have excelled in all tlK; parts of 
painting, had he not been too licentious and extravagant some- 
times, and suffered himself rather to be hurrted away by the 
heat of an unbounded fancy, than governed by his own judg- 
ment, or the rules of art. From Florence he went to Rome 
and Venice, and afterwards into France. He was Avell ac- 
complished both in body and mind : and by his Avorks in the 
galleries at Fontainbleau, and by several proofs which he gave 
of his extraordinary knowledge in architecture, recommend- 
ed himself so effectually to Francis I. that he made him su- 
perintendant-general of all his buildings, pictures, &c. as also 
a canon of the chapel ro3-al, allowed him a considerable pen- 
sion, and gave him other opportunities of growing so vastly 
rich, that for some time he lived like a prmce himself, in all 
the splendor and magnificence imaginable: till being robbed 
of a considerable sum of n)OQey, and suspecting one of his in- 
timate friends {Francesco PcUigrinOj. a Florentine) he caused 
him to be imprisoned, and put to the torture; which he un- 
derwent with courage: and having in the highest extremities 
maintained his innocence, Avith so much constancy, as to pro- 
cure his release; Rosso, p.irtly out of remorse for the barbar- 
ous treatment of his friend ; and partly out of fear of the ill 
consequeuce of his just resentment, made himself away by 
poison, A.D. 1541. 

Francesco Prima tt'CCIO, was descended of a noble fa- 
mily in Bologna. His friends, perceiving his strong inchnation 
for design, permitted him to go to Mantua, where he was six 
years a disciple o^ Julio Roynano. He became so skilfid, that 
he represented battles in stucco and basso relievo, better than 
any of the young painters at Mantua, who were Julio Ro7n a- 
no's pupils. He assisted Julio Romanoin executing his designs j 
and I'vancis I. sending to Rome for a man that understood 
works in stucco, Primaticcio was chosen for this service. The 
king sent him to Rome to buy antiques, in 1540; and he 



brought back a hundred and fourscore statues, -with a great 
number of bnstos. He had moulds made by Giacomo Baroccio 
di Vignola of the statues of Venus, Laocoon, Commodus, the 
Tiber, the Nile, the Cleopatra at Belvidere, and Trajan's pil- 
lar, in order to have them cast in brass. After the death of 
Rosso ^ he succeeded him in the place of superintendant of the 
buildings; and in a little time finished the gallery, which his 
predecessor had begun. He brought so man}' statues of marble 
and brass to Fontainbleau, it seemed another Rome, as 
ivell for the number of the antiquities, as for his own works 
in painting and stucco. He was so much esteemed in France, 
that nothing of an 3- consequence was done without him, which 
had relation to painting orbnilding. He directed the prepara- 
tions for festivals, tournaments, and masquerades. He was 
made abbot of St. Martin's at Troyes, and was respected as a 
courtier as well as a painter. He and Rosso shewed the French 
a good gusto ; for, before their time, Avhat they had done in 
the arts was very inconsiderable, and something Gothic. He 
died in a good old age, having been favored and caressed in 
four reiffns. About 90, A.D. 1570. 

Don Giulio Clovio, a celebrated limner, born in ScJavo- 
nia, A.D. 1498, at the age of eighteen went to Italy: and 
under yi///o Romano^ applied himself to miniature, with such 
admirable success, that never did ancient Greece, or modern 
Rome produce his fellow. He excelled both in portraits and 
histories : and (as Fo^sr/r/ his cotemporary reports) wasanotlier 
Titian \a tlie one, and a second Michad Angdo in the other. 
He was entertained for some time in the service of the king 
of Hungary : after whose decease he returned to Italy ; and 
being taken prisoner at the sacking of Home by the Spaniards, 
made a vow to retire into a convent, as soon as ever he should 
recover his liberty ; which he accordingly performed, not 
]ong after, in Mantua: but upon a dispensation obtained from 
the pope, by cardinal Grimani^ he laid aside the religious 
habit, antl was received into the family of tiiat prince. His 
works were wonderfully esteemed throughout Europe: highly" 
valued by several popes, !)y the emperors Charles V. •^r\(^ Max- 
imilian II. by Philii) king of Spain, and many othcrillustrious 
personages, engraved by yllhcrt /)«?t/' himself, andso nnicliad- 
mircd at Rome, that those pieces which lie wrought for the 



cardinal Farnese (in whose palace he s])ent the hitter part of 
his life) vrere hy all tjie lovers of art reckoned in the number 
of rarities of that city. Died A.D. 1578. 

John Holbein, better known by his German name Hans, 
was born at Basil in Swisserland in 1498, as manysay ; though 
Charles Putin places his birth three years earlier. He learned 
tlic rudiments of liis art from his father John Holbein, a pain- 
ter, who had removed from Augsburg to Basil ; but his o-e- 
nius soon raised him above his master. He painted our Sa- 
viour's P.ission in the town-house at Basil j and also in the 
fish-niarket of the same town, a dance of peasants, and death's 
dance. Holbein, tliough a great genius and fine artist, iiad 
no elegance or delicacy of manners, but was given to Avine 
and revelling com;iany : for which he met with a rebuke from 
his friend the celebrated Erasmus. 

It is said that an English nobleman, who accidentally saw 
some o? Holbein's performances at Basil, invited him to Eng- 
land, wherehisart was in high esteem ; and promised himgreat 
encouragement from Henry VIII. ; but HJbein was too much 
engaged in his pleasures to embrace the proposal. A few years 
after, however, moved by the necessities to which an increased 
family and his ow^n mismanagement had reduced him, as well 
as by the persuasions of his friend Erasmus, he consented to 
gd to England : and he consented the more readily, having a 
termagant for his wife. In his journey he staid some days at 
Strasburg, and applying, as it is said, to a very great master 
in that city for work, was taken in, and ordered to give a spe- 
cimen of his skill, Holbein finished a piece with great care, 
and painted a fxv upon tlie most eminent part of it ; after 
which he withdrew privily in the absence of his master, and 
pursued his journey. When the painter returned home, he 
Avas astonished atthebeautyand elegance of the drawing ; and 
especially at the fly, which, upon his fir-t castinir hi.s eye 
upon it, he so far took for a reai iiy, th^it he endeavoured to 
remove it with his hand. He sent all over the city for his jour- 
nej^man, who was now missing; but after many enquiries, 
found that he had been thus deceived by the famous Holbein. 
After l)egging his way to England, which Patin tells us he 
almost did, he found an easy admittance to toe then lord chan- 
cellor, Sir Toomas More : for he had brought v/ith him P.ras- 
Vol. IV. / pari 2 mus^s 


f7ius's picture, aacl letters recommendatory from him. Sir 
Thomas kept him in his house between two and three years; 
durii-i^ which titne he drew Sir Thomas's picture, and many of 
his frici.ds and relations. One day Holbein happening to men- 
tion the nobleman who had some years ago invited him to 
England, Sir Thomas was very solicitous to know who he was. 
Holbein replied .that he had indeed forgot his title,bat remem- 
bered his face SI) well, tl«at he could draw his likeness ; which 
he did : the nobleman, it is said, wasimmediately known by it. 
The chancellor determined to introduce him to Henry VIII. 
xvhich he did in this manner. He invited the king to an en- 
tertainment, and hung up all //oMg?>z'5 pieces, disposed in the 
best order, and in the best light, in his great hall. The king, 
upon his entrance, was so charmed with them, that he asked, 
** Whether such an artist was now alive, and to be had for 
mouey ?" Upon which Sir Thomas presented Holbein to the 
kin», who took him into his service, and brought him into 
great esteem with the nobility. The king from time to time 
manifested his great value for him,and upon the death of queen 
Jane, his tlurd wife, sent him into Flanders, to draw the pic- 
ture of theduchess dowager of Milan, widow to Francis Sf or za, 
whom the emperor Charles V. had recommended to him for 
a fourth wife; but the king's defection from the see of Rome 
happening about that time, he rather chose to match with a 
proiestant princess, in hopes to engage the protestant league 
in Germany in his interest. Cro7}i'wdl, then his prime-minister, 
(for Sir 'I hornas More was removed and beheaded), proposed 
Aime of Clcves to him ; but tiie king was not over fond of the 
match, till her picture, which Cromxvcll had sent Holbein to 
draw, was presented to him : where, as lord Herbert of Cher- 
bury says, she was rejn-esented l>y this master so charming, 
that the king resolved to many her ; and afterwards, that he 
hiight not disoblige the princes of Germany, actually did 
marry her ; though, when he saw the lad}', he was disgusted 
at her. 

In England Holbein drew a number of admirable portraits. 
He painted alike in every manner ; in fresco, in water-co- 
lours, in oil, and in miniature. He was eminent also for a 
rich vein of invention, very conspicuous in a multitude of 



designs, which he made for et?graveir«,.scuIpto.r5,jeweneFSy&c. 
He had the same singt>larity, whkle J^limf meiitio?« of fiir- 
pilms a Roman, namelj,, that crf paiuting with Ms left Iiarfcl. 
He died of the plague ut -London in 1554, and at liis lodging!* 
at Whitehall, where he hiid lived from the time that th* iing 
became his patron. 

Cotemporary with these masters was Ugo ha C.ARpr, a 
painter, considerable only for having (in tlicyear 1500) found 
out the art of printing in cltiaro-oscuro : which he perfonaecl 
by means of two pieces, or plates of box : one Cff which serv- 
ing for tl^e outlines and shadows., the other imprinted wltat- 
ever colour was laid upon it : And the plate being cut out, 
and hollowed in proper places, left the white paper for the 
lights, and made the print appear as if heightened with a 
pencil. This invention he afterwards improvedj by addir»g 
a third plate, which served for the middle-tints; and made 
his stamps so compleat, tliat several famous masters, and 
among them ParmegianOy published a great many excellent 
things in this wa}'. 

Benvenuto Cxllini, a celebrated sculptor and engraver 
of Florence, was born in 1500, and intended to be trained to 
music; but, at 15 years of age, bound himself, contrary to 
his father's inclinations, apprentice to a jeweller and gold- 
smith, under whom he made such a progress, as presently to 
rival the most skilful. He discovered an early taste for draw- 
ing and designing, which he afterwards cultivated. He ap- 
plied himself also to seal engravings, learned to make curious 
damaskeenings of steel and silver on Turkish daggers, &c. 
and was very ingenious in medals and rings. But CdUnieX' 
ceiled in arms, as well as in arts: and Clemtnt VII. valued him 
as much for his bravery as for his skill in his profession. 
When the duke of Bourbon laid siege to Rome, and the city 
was taken and plundered, the pope committed the castle o'f 
St. Angdo to Cellini i Avho defended it like a man bred to arms, 
and did not suffer it to surrender but by capitulation, 

Cdlinf was one of those great wits, who may truly be said 
to have bordered on madness: he was of a desultory, capri- 
cious, unequal humour; and this involved him perpetually in 
adventures, which were often near being fatal to him. He 
travelled among the cities of Italy, but chieflyresided at Rome ; 

/ 2 where 


Avhere he was sometimes in favor w ith tiie great, and some- 
times out. 

He consorted with all the first artists in their several ways, 
Avitii MicJiaei Angdo, Julio Koviuno^ ^c. Finding himself at 
len;Ttli upon ill terms in It.ily, he formed a resolution of going 
to France ; and, passing from Rome through Florence, Bo- 
logn.i, and Venice, he arrived at P.^dua, w here he was most 
kindly received bv,and made some sti^' Avith,the famous Pie- 
tro Ljmbo. From Padua he travelled t'irough Swi;seriand, vi- 
site J Geneva in his v. ay to Lyons, and, alter r;;iting a few diiys 
in this last city, arrived safe at Paris. Flc met with a gracious 
reception i\-om Frxncisl. who would have t..ken him into lii.s 
service; but, conceiving a dislike to p>ance from a sudden 
iilnes-3 he fell into there, he returned to Italy. He was scarcely 
arrived, when, being accused of hnving robbed the castle of 
^t. Angela of a great treasure at the time that Rome was sa' ked 
bv ae Spaniards be was arrested a;i.l sent pr.soncr thi^iier. 

Being sot at libe ty. after many harusiiipa an.i difHcultie.^, 
iie en erqd into the service of the French king, and set out 
with tiie c"-rdinal of F 'vrara lor Paris; when-, when they ar- 
rived, being h.g''y di gusted at the earduial's proposing what 
he thoiignt an inc^-isiderable salary, this wild nuin goes oil 
abruptly uooa r pilgrimape to Jerusalem. He was, however, 
pursued and breugh' back to the king,wlio settled a hand.-ome 
salary upon han,as?'.ig:njd him a house to w'ork in at Paris, and 
granted bin; shortly after a naturalization. But here, getiui;; 
as usual into s cra]>es and quarrels, and particularly having ol- 
fended Madame tCEstnmpcs, the king's mistress, he was ex- 
posed to endless trouoles and pers-ecnt ions ; with wiiicli at 
length being wearied out, he obtained the king's permission 
to return to Italy, and went to Florence ; where he was kindly 
received by Cosmo dc M.diciSj the grand duke, and engaged 
himself in his service. Here, again, disgusted with some of 
the duke's servants, (for he could not accommodate himself 
to, or agree with, any body) he took a trip to Venice, where 
he was greatly caressed by Titian, Sansoxi)w, and other in- 
geiiious artists ; but, after a short stay, returned to Florence, 
and resumed his business. He died in loTO. 

PiFRiNo f/£r/ Vaga, was born at Florence, A.D. loOO, of 
such mean [)arentage, that his niother dying when he was two 



months old, he suckled bv a goat. The name of Faga he 
took from a country y)a;nter,who carried him to Home : where 
he left him in such poor circumstances, that he was forced to 
spend three days of the week in v\orkii)g fn* breatl ; bur yet 
setting apart the other three for in)provcment; in a little time, 
by studving the antique, together with the works oi RaffaeUcy 
and ^lichad Angdoy he became one of the boldest, and rhost 
graceful designers of the Roman school: and understood the 
n)uscles in naked bodic , arid all tiie diificulties of the art so 
vrell, that llaffaelle took an atlection to lum, and employing 
him HI the pope's a))artments, gave him a lucky opportunity 
of distinguishing himself from his fellow disciples, by the 
beauty of his coloring, and his talent in decorations and gro- 
tesque. His chief works are at Genoa, where he grew famous 
liken-ise for his skill in architecture ; having designed a noble 
palace for prince Z)o/7V/, which he also painted and adorned with 
his own hand,. From Genoa he removed to Pisa, and afterwards 
to several other parts of Italy ; his rambling himiour never 
suffering him to continue long in one place : till at lengtli re- 
turning to Rome, he had a pension settled on him, for look- 
ing after the pope's palace, and the Casa Farnese. But Pie- 
vino having sjuandered away in his youth, that which should 
have been the support of his old age; and being constrain d 
at last to m.ale himself cheap, b}' undertaking an v little |)ieces, 
for a small sum of ready money, fell into a deep melancholy, 
and from that extreme into another as bad, of wine and women, 
and the next turn M'as into his grave, A.D. 1547. 

Francesco Mazzuoli, called Parmegiano, because born 
ut Parma, A.D. 1504, was brought up under his two uncles j an eminent painter, when but sixteen years old; famous 
all over Italy at nineteen ; and at twenty-three performed 
such wonders, that when the emperor Charles V. had taken 
Rome by storm, some of the common soldiers in sackmg the 
tov^n, having broke into his apartments, and found ban (like 
J'yrAogenes of old) intent on his work, were so astonished at the 
b-.-auty of his pieces, that instead of plunder and destruction, 
which was then their business, they resolved to protect him 
(as they afterwards did) from all manner of violence But 
besides the perfections of his pencil (which was one of the 
most genteel, most graceful, and most elegant in the world) 



he delighted in music, and tliercin also excelled. His prfncipa] 
works are at Parma ; where, for several years, he lived in great 
reinilation; till falling unhappily into the study of chemistry, 
he wasted the most considerable part of his time and fortunes 
in search of thephilosopher's-stone,anddicdpoor,inthe flower 
of his age, A. D. 1 540. There are extant many valuable jirints 
by this master, not only in chiaro oscuro, but also in aqua 
fortis, of which he is said to have been the inventor: or at 
least, the first who practised the art of etching, in Italy. 

GiAcoMo Palma, commonly called Pali^ia Veccio, (i. e. 
the old) was born at Serinaha, in the state of Venice, A. D. 
1508, and made such good use and advantage of the instruc- 
tions which he received from Titian, that few masters have 
shewn a nobler fancy in their compositions ; better iudgincnt 
in their designs ; more of nature in their expression, and airs 
of heads ; or of art in finishing their works. Venice was where 
he usually resiiled, and where he died, A. 1). 1 536. His pieces 
are not very numerous, by reasonof hishaving spcut much time 
in bringing tliose which he has left behind him, to perfection. 

Daniele RicciARELLi, surnamod da Volterra, from a 
town in Tuscany, where ho was horn, A.D. I50t', was of a 
melancholy and heavy teni[)er, and seemed but meanlv quali- 
fied by nature for an artist : yet by the instructions o^ Bait ha' 
sar da Siena ^awdhxsoww applicatirn and industry,he surmount- 
ed all difficulties ; and at length became so excellent a de- 
signer, that his descent from the cross, in the church of the 
Trinity on ttie mount, is ranked amongst the best pieces in 
Rome. He was chosen by }>oi)e Paul IV. to cloath some of 
the nudities in Michad Angeio'^ last judgment : which he per- 
formed with good success. He was as eminent likewise for 
his chissel as his pencil, and wrought several considerable 
things in sculpture, died A.D. 1566. 

Francesco Salviati, a Florentine, born A.D. 1510, Avas 
at first a disciple o^ Andrea del S'arto, and afterwards of Baccio 
Bandinclli ; and very well esteemed both in Italy and France, 
for his several works in fresco, distemper, and oil. He was 
quick at invention, and as ready in the execution; graceful 
in his naked figures, and as genteel in his draperies ; yet his 
talent did not lie in grand compositions ; and there are some of 
his pieces in two colors only, which have the name of being 



his best performances. He^vas naturally so fond and conceited 
of h.s own works, that he could hardly allow any body else a 
good word: and it is said, that the jealousy which he had ot 
some young men then growing up into reputation, made him 
so uneasy that the %'^ery apprehension of their proving better 
artists.than himself, hastenerl his death, A.D. 1563. 

PiRRO LiGORio, a noble Neapolitan, lived in this time: 
and though he chiefly studied architecture, aiid for his skill 
in that art wa,sein ployed, and highly encouraged by pope Paul 
IV. andhis successor Piu%\V. vet he was also an excellent de- 
signer ; and by the many cartoons which he made for tapes- 
tries, &c, (as well as by his writings) gave sufficient proof, 
that he was well learned in the antiquities. ""Ihere are several 
volumes of his designs preserved in the cabinet of the duke of 
Savov : of which some part consists in a curious collection of 
all the ships, gallies, and other sorts of vessels, in use amongst 
the ancients. He was engineer to Alphonsus II. the last duke 
of Ferrara, and died about the year 1573. 

GiACOMo dii PoNTE cla Rassano, so called from the place 
where he was born, (in the Marca Trevisana) A.D. 1,510, was 
at first a disciple of his father ; and afterwards of Bonifacio^ 
a better painter, at Venice : b}' whose assistance, and his own 
frequent copying the works of Titian^ and Parmegiano, he 
brought himself into a pleasant and most agreeable way of 
coloring: but returning into the country, upon the death of 
his father, he applied himself wholly to the imitation of nature; 
and from his wife,childrenand servants, took the ideas of most 
of his figures. His works are very numerous, all the stories 
of the Old and New Testament having been painted by his 
hand, besides a nmltitude of other histories. He was famous 
also for several excellent portraits. In a word, so great was 
tht reputation of this artist at Venice, that ZY/Za/i himself was 
glad to purchase one of his pieces (representing the entrance 
of Noah and his family into the ark) at a very considerable 
price. He had made himself well acquainted with history, and 
having likewise a good deal of knowledge in polite literature, 
this furnished him with exctrllent subjects. He had great suc- 
cess in landscape and portraiture. He iias also drawn sev^eral 
night pieces ; butit is said iie found great difficulty in repre- 
senting feet itnd hands, and for this reason these parts are 



gcncrall3'hid in his pictures, lumbal Currache,v;\\Q,n he went 
to see Bassayio, was so far deceived by the representation of ft 
book painted on the wall, tliat lie went to lay hold of it. 

He was earnestly sohcited to go into the service of the ( in- 
peror : but so charming were the pleasures wiiich he found in 
the quiet enjoyment of painting, music, and good books, that 
no temptations whatsoever could make him change his cot- 
tage for a c( art. He died A.D. 1392, leaving behind him 
four sons: oi whom 

Francesco, the eldest, settled at Venice: where he followed 
the manner of !ils f.ither, and was well esteemed, for divers 
pieties in theducul palace, and other public jWaces, in conjunc- 
tion with Paul Veronese y Tintorety &c. But his too close ap- 
plication to p. anting ha . ing re.idered iiini unfit for other bu- 
siness, am! ignorant even of his own private nffairs ; he con- 
tracted by degrees a deep melancholy, and at last became so 
much crazejjthatfancving Serjeants were continuallyin pursuit 
ofiiim,heI ;ipedoutofhis\vindovvt.oavoid thcm(asheimagmcd) 
and by the fall occasioned his owndeath, A.D. 159 i. aged 43. 

Llandro, the third son, had so excellent a talent in face- 
painting, (whichhe principally studied) that he was knighted 
^or a [jortrait he made of thedogeil/^?'m Grimani. He likewise 
iinished several things left impevlect by his \i\'0\\\i^\ Franceseo ; 
composed some history pieces also of his own ; and was as 
mucli admired for his perfection in music, as his skill in paint- 
ing. Died A.D. 1623, r:ged C>b. 

Gig BATTisTA,thesecondson,andGiROLAMotl'e youngest, 
applied' themselves to making copies of their father's works; 
wh;ch they did so very well, thatthey are oftentimes taken for 
originals. Gio Bailisia died A.D. 1613, aged GO. and Giro- 
laino, A.'D. 1622, aged 62. 

GiAcoMo RoBUsxr, called Tintoretto (because a dyar's 
SJii) born at Venice, A.D. 1512, was a disciple of IMtian, 
who having observed something extraordinary in his genius, 
di: missed him from his family, for fear he should grow up to 
rival hiS maitcr. Yet he pursui'd Tituoi's way of coloring, as 
tie most natural ; and studied Mich ad Aug eld's gusto of design 
as the most correct. Venice was the j^late of iiis constant 
abode, where he was made aciti/en,and woiuterfully beloved, 
and esteemed tor his works. He was called the furious lintoret 



for his bold m.iiiiier of painting, vith stronj^ lights and deep 
shadows; for tlic rapidity of his genius; and for his grand 
vivacit) of spirit, much admired hy Paul I'evcnese. But then, 
lie was blamed by him, and all others of his profession, for un- 
dervaluing himself, and his art, by undertaking all sorts of bu- 
siness for any price ; thereby making so great a diiicrence in 
liis several performances, that {asl/a/.:n'ba/ Car rache observed) 
Ije is sometimes equal to Titian, and at other times inferior to 
himself. He wasextrcmcly pleasant, and affable in his luimour: 
and delighted so much in paintin-,': and music, his beloved 
studies, that he would hardly suffer himsell to taste any other 
pleasures. He died A. D. 1594; living had one daughter 
and a son : of whom the eldest 

Marif.tta Tintoretta, was so well instructed by her fa- 
ther, in his own profession, as well as in music, that in both 
ai Is she got great reputation, and was particularly emnent for 
an admirable style in portraits. She married a Gern)an, and 
died in her prinie, A.D. 1590; equally lamented both by her 
husband and her father ; and so much beloved by the latter, 
that he never would consent she should leave him, though she 
had been invited by the emperor Maximilian, bv Fliilip II. 
king of Spain, and by several other princes to their courts. 

DoMENicoTiNTORRETTo, hissou, gavc great hopes in his 
youth, that he would one day render the name of Tintoret yet 
more illustrious than his father had made it: but neglecting to 
cultivate by study the talent whicli nature had given him, he 
fell short of those mighty things expected from him ; and be- 
came more considerable for portraits than for historical com- 
positions. He died A.D. J637,aged75. 

Paris Bordoxe, well descended, and brought up to let- 
ters, music, and other genteel accomplishments, wasadisciple 
of Titian, and flourished in the time of Tintoret : but was 
more commended for the delicacy of his pencil than the purity 
of his out-lines. He was in great favour and esteem with 
Francis I. for whom, besides abundance of histories, he made 
the portraits of several court ladies, in so excellent a manner, 
that the original nature was hardly more charming. From 
France he returned home to Venice, laden with honor and 

Vol. IV. ' K part 2 riches; 


ticlics; and having acquired as much reputation in all parts 
of Italy as he had doiic abroad, died aged 75. 

Georgto Vasari, a Florentine painter, equally famous for 
the pen and pencil, and eminent for his :?kill in architecture, 
Mas born at Arczzo, a city of Tuscany, in 1514. He was 
at first a disciple of IVilliam of Marseilles, who painted upon 
glass, afterwards of Andrea del SartOy and at last of Michael 
Angelo. Vasari \\7\.% not, like some other painters, hurried on 
to this profession by natural inclination: for it is probable, that 
he mitde choice of it i'rom prudence and reilection, more than 
from the impulse of genius. When the troubles of Florence 
"wereover,he returned to his own country, where he found his 
father and mother dead of the plague, and five brethren left to 
his care, whom he was forced to maintain by the profits of his 
labor. He painted in fresco in the towns about Florence; 
but, fearing this would not prove a sufficient maintenance, Ire 
<|uitted his profession, and turned goldsmith. But this not an- 
swering, he again applied himself to painting ; and with an 
earnest desire to become a master. He was indefatigable in 
designing the antique, and studying the best pieces of the most 
noted masters ; he very much improved his design, by copy- 
ing entirely Michael Jngclo's c\r.\\ie\, yet he joined with Salvi- 
atim designing all Iiuf/'ael/e's works : by which he improved 
his invention and hav.d to such a degree, that he attained a 
wonderful freedom in both. He did not pay a vast attention 
to coloring, b.aving no very true idea of it : on which account 
his works, though he was an artful designer, did not acquire 
him the reputation he expected. Me was a good a'lchitect, 
and understood ornaments very well; and he executed innu- 
merable works this way, as well as in painting. He spent the 
most considerable part of his life in travelling over Italy, leav- 
ing in all places marks of his industry. 

lie was a writer as well as a painter. He wrote " A His- 
tory of the Lives of the most eminent Painters, Sculptors, 
Architects,*' &.c. whicli he firs' published at Florence, in 2 vols. 
1550; and reprinted in l.;63, with large additions, and the 
heads of most ol the masters. This work was undertaken at 
the request of the Cardinal de Medicis, who was very much his 
imtron ; and in the opinion of Jlaiutibal Caro, is written with 
great veracity and judgment : though Fdibien and others tax 



him with some faults, particularly with flattering the masters 
then living, and with partiality to those of hiii own country. 
He published also, " Reflections on his own pictures:" of 
which the chief arc at Rome, Florence, and l^ologna. He 
died at Florence in 1378, aged 64 : and was carried to Arezzo, 
where he was buried in a chapel, of which he himself had 
beeai the architect. 

Andrea Palladio, a celebrated Italian architect, born 
A. D. \5 IS, was a native of Vicenza in Lomhardy. He was 
one of those wlio labored particularly to restore the ancient 
beauties of architecture, and contributed greatly to revive 
true taste in that science. As soon as he had learned the 
piinciples of that art from George T)issimis a learned man, 
who was a Patrician or Roman nobleman, of the same town 
of Vicenza, he went to Rome; where applying himself with 
great fliligence to study the ancient monuments, he entered 
into the spirit of their architects, and possessed himself of all 
their beautiful ideas. This enabled him to restore their rules, 
which had been corrupted by the barbarous Goths. He made 
exact drawings of the principal works of antiquity which 
were to be met with at Rome; to which he added " Com- 
mentaries," which went through several impressions, with the 
iigures. This, though a very useful work, yet is greatly 
exceeded by the four books of architecture, which he pub- 
lished in 1 570. The last book treats of the Roman Temples, 
and isexecutedin such a manner, as gives him the preference 
to all his predecessors upon the subject. It was translated 
into French by Roland Friatt, and into English by several au- 
t!inr>;. Im'go Jones wrote some excellent remarks upon it, 
which were published in an edition of Palladio by Leoni, 
1712, in 2 vols, folio. 

Aktonio More, born at Utrecht, in the Low Countries, 
A.D. 1519, was a tlisciple of John Schcorel, and in his younger 
days had seen Home, and some other parts of Italy. He was 
recounnended by Cardinal Granville^ to the service of the 
l-lmoeror Charleys V. and having made a portrait of his son 
Philip If. at Madrid, was sent upon the same account to the 
kmg, queen, and princess of Portugal; and afterwards into 
England, to draw the picture of queen Mary. From Spain he 
retired into Flanders, where he became a mighty favorite of 
ihe duke of Alva (then governor of the Low Countries.) And 

K 2 beside 


besides the noble pre-ents and aj^plause, whicl) he gained in 
all place^ by his pencil, was as much admired for liis extraor- 
dinary address; being as great a courtier, as a painter. His 
talent lay in u'jbigning vcrv justly, in finishing his pieces with 
Avonderf.ii care and neatness, and in a most natural imitation 
of flesh aiid blood, in his coloring. Yet after all, he could not 
reach tliat noble strength and spirit, so visible in the works 
of Titian. He made several attempts in history-pieces ; but 
understood nothing of grarul compositions; and his iTianner 
was tame, I'.ard, and dry He died at Ant\^erp, A.D. 1675. 

Pa(lo Farinato, of Verona, was (it is said) cut out of 
his mother's bell>', who died in labor, A.D. 1522. He was a 
disciple of Nkolo Golfino, and an admirable designer ; but 
not altogether happy in his coloring : though there is a piece 
of his painting in St. Georgt'^ church, at Verona, so well pcr- 
forrhfid in both parts, that it does not seem to be inferior to 
one oi Paul Ferojiesc. which is placed next to it. He was 
famous fam Martc (jiiam Mcrcurio; being an excellent swords- 
man, and a very good orator. He was considerable likewise 
for his knowledge in sculpture and architecture, especially 
that part of it which rchites to fortifications, &c. tlis last 
moments were as remarkable as his first, for the death of bis 
nearest relation. He lay upon his deathbed, A.D. 1606: 
and his wife, who was sick in the san)e room, hearing him 
cry out, he was going ; told him, she would bear him com- 
pany; and was as good as her word : they both expiring the 
same minute. 

Andiif. A ScHiAvoKE, SO callcd from the country where Iic 
was born, A.D. 1.522, was so meanly descended, that his pa- 
retits, after they had brought him to Venice, were not able to 
alford him a master : and yet by great study and pains, toge- 
ther with such helps as he received ft om the prints of Partiw- 
giano^ and the paintings of Giorgione and Titian, he arrived 
at last to degrees of excellence very surprising. Being- 
obliged to work for his daily bread, he could not spare time 
sufficient for making himself perfect in design : but that de- 
fect was so well covered, with the singular beauty and sweet- 
ness of his colors, that Tin tortt used often times to say, no 
painter ought to be without one piece (at least) of his hand. 
His principal works were composed at Venice, some of them 
in concurrence with Tintorat himself, and others by the di- 


ycctioiis of Tifictii, in tlic librarv of St. Mark. Rut so nialicious 
was fortune to \)Oov Andrea , that his pictures were but little 
valued in his lifetime, and lie never was paid any otherwise for 
them, than as an ordinary painter : thoujyh after his decease, 
which happened A.D. 1582, his works turned to a much 
better account, and were esteemed answerable to their merits, 
and but little inferior to those of his most famous cotempo- 

Federtco Barrocci, born ni the city ofUrbin, A.D. 1528, 
was trained up in the art of design by Baitista Vcnetianoi 
and having at ??ome acquired a competent knov^•ledge in 
geometry, perspective, and architecture, applied })imself to 
the works of his most em.inent predecessors: and in a par- 
ticular manner stuaied his countryman RaffaeUe ?.x\(\ Corregio; 
one in the charmino- airs, and irraceful outlines of his fio-ures; 
the other in the admirable union, and agreeable harmony of 
his Colors, lie had not been long in Rome, before some, 
malicious painters, his competitors, found means (by a dose 
of poison, conveyed into a sallad, with which they treated 
him) to send him back again into his own country, attended 
with an indisposition so terribly grievous, that for above fifty 
years together it seldom permitted him to take any repose, 
and never allowed him above tv« o hours in a day, to follow 
his painting. So that expecting, almost every moment, to 
be removed into another world, he employed his pencil al- 
together in the histories of the Bible, and other religious 
subjects: of which he wrought a considerable number, in 
the short intervals of his painful fits, and notwithstanding the 
severity of them, hvcd till the j-ear 1612, with the character 
of a man of honor, and virtue, as well as the name of one of 
the most judicious, and graceful painters, that has eve? 

Taddeo Zucchero, born at St. Angela in Vado, in the 
duchy of Urbin, yV.D. 1.521), was initiated in the art of paint- 
ing at home, by Jiis father; and at Home instructed by Gio, 
Pietro Calabrc: but improved himself most by the study of 
anatomy, and by copying the works of Baffaelle. He excelled 
chiefly in a florid inventio!i, a genteel manner of design, and 
in the good disposition and ceconqmy of his pieces: but was 
not so much admired for his coloring, which was generally 
npleasant, and rather resembled the statues than the life. 



Home, Tivol", Fit renc e, Capraroia, and Venice, were *he 
places where he distingu!f^hed himself; but left many 
tilings uuriiushed, being snatched a^va^• in his prime, A. D, 

l*AOLO Caliari, il Veronese, born A.lJ. 1532, ^as adis- 
ciple of his uncle ^///o«/o Bml'lc : and not only esteemed the 
most excellent of all the Lombard painters, but \or h\^ copious 
and admirable invention, for t.ic grandeur and mdjesty of his 
composition, for the beauty and perfection of hisxiraperies, 
topret her with his noble ornaments of architecture, vtc. he is 
stiicd by the Italians, II Pit lor J dice (the happy painte..) He 
svient most of his time at Venice; but the best of h.s works 
Mere made after he returned thither fioui Rome, and had stu- 
died the antique. He could not be p.evailed upon by the 
j^reat oders made him by Pliilii) II. of p^in, to le^ve his own 
countrv; where his reputation was so well established, that 
moat of the princes of Europe sent to their several ambassa- 
dors, to procure them somethirrg of his hand, at any rates. 
He was a person of a subliaieand noble spirit, used to goric hly 
dressed, and generally wore a gold chain, which had been 
presented him by the procurators of St. il/ar/r, as a prize he 
won from several artists his compet:tor^>. He was highly in 
favor with all the principal men in his time : and so much ad- 
mired bv all the great masters, as well co-temporaries, as 
those who succeeded hlin, that Titian himself used to say, he 
was the ornament of his profession ; and Guido Reni being 
aiked, which of the masters his predecessors he would chuse 
to be, were it in his power; after Ixafjaelle and Corrti^ioy 
mimed Paul Ti ronese ; whom he always called hi<. Paolino. 
He died at Venice, A.D. 1588 ; leaving great wealth behind 
him to his two sons, 

Gabrielle and Carlo, who lived very happilv together, 
joined in finishing several pieces left imperfect by their lather, 
and followed his manner so close in ether excellent things of 
their own, that they are not easily distinguished from those 
a^ Paulo's hand. Carlo wouKl have performed wonders, had 
he not been nipt in the bud, A.D. 1 J96, aged 26: after whose 
decease G'a/;//t//t' applied himself to merchandize; yet did not 
quite la3' aside his pencil, but made a considerable number 
of portraits, and some history pieces of a very good gusto. 
Died A.D. 16J1, aged 63. 



Benedetto Caliari lived and stu lied wit') liis brotlicr 
Paulo, whom he loved affectionately ; and frequentj}' assisted 
him and his nephews, in finishincr several of their composi- 
tion? ; but especially in pair:t'n<jj architecture, in which he 
chiefly delighted. He practised for the most p;irt in fresco : 
and some of his best pieces are in chiaro-oscur ). He was be- 
sides, master of a respectable stock of Icurninjj;, was poeti- 
cally inclined, and had a peculiar talent in satire. He died 
A.D. 1598, aged 60. 

GiosErPE Salviati, a Venetian painter, was born A D. 
1535, and exchanged the name of Porta, which belonged to 
his family, forthat of his master Francesco Salviati , with whom 
he was placed very young at Rome, by his uncle. F^e spent 
the greatest part of his life in Venice : where he applied him- 
self generally to fresco; and was oftentimes employed in con- 
currence with Paulo Veronese, and Tintoret. He was well es- 
teemed for his great skill, both in design and coloring ; was 
likewise well read in other arts and sciences, and was particu- 
larly so good a mathematician, that he wrote several treatises, 
very judiciously, on that subject. He died A.D. 1585. 

Federico Zucchero, born in the duchy of Urbin, A.D. 
1543, was a disciple of his brother Taddeo, from whom he dif- 
fered but very little in his style, and manner of painting; 
though in sculpture and architecture he was far more excel- 
lent. Helled into France toavoid thepope'sdispleasure, which 
he had incurred, by drawing some of his officers with asses 
ears, in a piece he made to representcalumny or slander. From 
thence passing through Flanders and Holland, he came over 
hito England, drew queen Elisabeth's picture, went back to 
Italy, was pardoned by the pope, and in a little time sent for 
to Spain, by Philip II. and employed in the Escurial. He la- 
bored very hard at his return to Rome,forestablishing th- aca- 
demy of painting, by virtue of a brief obtained from pope 
Gregory XIII. Of which being chosen the first president him- 
self, he built a noble apartment for their meeting, went to Ve- 
nice to print some books he had composed of that art, and had 
formed other designs for its farther advancement, which were 
all defeated by his death, (at Ancona) A.D. 1609. 

GiAcoMo VKLU.h. junior, commonly called Giovane Pal- 
ma, born at Venice, A.D. 1544, wtx.^'^ow oi Antonio, the 



nephew o( Pabnaracchi'o. He improved theuistnictions wliicli 
his father had given him, by copying the works of the most 
eminent masters, both of the Koman and Lombard schools ; 
but in liis own compositions chieHy followed the manner of 
Titian and Tiniorct. He spent some years in Rome, and was 
employed in the galleries and lodgings of the Vatican : bnt 
the greater number of his pieces is at Venice, ^\hcre he stu- 
died night and day, filled almost every place with something 
or otlj'H' of his Itund ; and (like Tiniorct J refused nothing that 
tvas offered him, upon the least prospect of gain. He died 
A.D. J623, famous for never having let any sorrow come near 
his heart, even ujjon tiie severest trials. 

Bartiioi,omew SpRANGHER,l)orn at Ant^^•erp, A.D. 1546, 
and brought up under variety of masters, was chief painter 
to the emperor Mdv'unilliiDi II. and so much respected by his 
successor Bodo/p/uis, that he presented him with a gold chain 
and medal, allowed him a pension, honored him and his poste- 
rity with tlie title of nobility, lodged him in his own palace, 
and would suffer him to paint for nobody but himself. He had 
spent some part of his youth in Rome, where he was emploj'- 
cd by the cardinal Farnese, and afterwards preferred to the 
service of pope Pius V. but for want of judgment in the con- 
duct of his studies, brouglit little with him, besides a good 
pencil, from Italy. His out-line was generally stiff and veiy 
imgraceful; his postures forced and extravagant ; and, in a 
word, there appeared nothing of the Roman gusto in his de- 
signs. He obtained leave from the emperor (after many years 
continuance in his court) to visit his own country- ; and ac- 
cordingly went to Antwerp, Amsterdam, Haerlem, and several 
other places, where he was honorably received : and having 
l)ad the satisfaction of seeing his own works highly admired, 
and his nianncralmost universally followed in all tiiose parts,as 
well as in Germany, he returned to PyaguCydud died in a good 
old age. On the same form with.S);rrt'//,^'//t'/' we may place liij> 
eotemporaries John J'an y/cA,and Joseph Hcints, hoih. history- 
painters of note, and nmch admired in the emperor's court. 
Matthew and Paul Rrii,, natives of Antwerp, and good 
painters. IMatthcw was born in 1 550, and studied for the most 
part at Rome. He waseminent for his performances in history 
and landscape, in the galleries t*f the Vatican ; where he was 



ployed hy J^ope Gn-^^ory XUl. He died in 1584, being no 
more than thirty-four yc.irs of age. J^aid was boru in 1.^54 ; 
followed his brother Muff here to Konic; painted several thinij:! 
in conjunction with him ; and, after hisd^xease, broi!<>-*''t him- 
self into credit by hislandscapes, bntespcciaily by those vvhicii 
he composed in h'u latter time. The uiventiv>n in ihem v as 
more {)Ieasant, the disposition more noble, all thr parts more 
a<rreeable, and painted with a better gusto, ilian iiis earlier 
productions in this way ; which was owing to his liuViUg stu- 
ilieii the manner of liunnihal Carrache^ and copied some ot 
TiliaiCs works, in the same kind. He was much in favor with 
pope Sixtus V. and, for his successor Clement WW, painted 
that famous piece, about sixty-eight feet long, wherein iim 
saint of that name is repiesentetl cast into the sea, with an an- 
chor about his neck. lie died at Rome in 1626, aged 72. 

Cherubino Alberti, born A.D. 1552, was adiscipieof 
his fatiier ; and equally excellent both in engraving and paint- 
ing. His performances iri the latter are mostly in fresco : and 
hardlv ai)^y where to be seen out of Uome ; but his prints after 
M.Angtlo^ Polydore^ and Ziicchero, being in the hands of the 
world, as they have done honor to those masters, they have se- 
cured a lasting reputation to himself. He spent a great part of 
his life in the happy enjoyment of the fruit of his labours : but 
a considerable estate(unluckily)falling to him by the death of 
his brother, he laid aside his pencil, grew melancholv, and in 
a strange, unaccountable whimsey of making cross-bows, 
(such as w ere used in war by the ancients, before gunpowder 
was known) fooled away the remainder of his days, and died 
A.D. lG15,aged C3. 

Antonio Iempesta, born in Florence, A.D. 1555, was a 
disciple of John Strada,2iYie.m'nvr. He had a particular genius 
for b.utlcs, cavalcades, huntings, and for designing all sorts of 
animals ; but did not so much regard the delicacy of coloring, 
as the lively expression and spirit of those things which he re- 
presented. His prdinary residence was at Rome ; w here in his 
younger days he wrought several pieces, hy prder of pope 
Gregory XIII. in the apartments of the Vatican. He was full 
of thought and invention, very quick and ready in the exe- 
cution ; and considerable for a nmltitude of prints etched by 
himself. He died A.D. 1630, aged T,**, much commended also 
Vol. IV. L part 2 for 


for his skill in music: and so famous for his veracity, iha.t it 
became a proverbial expression, to say, " It is as true as if 
** 7 emptsla h.mseif had spi ken it." 

Caracci, (Ludovico, Augustine, and Hannibal,) ce- 
lebr.ited painters ot the Lombard school, all of Bologna in 
Italv. Ludovico Caracci v/dshon-i in 1565 ; and vas cousin-ger- 
man to Augustine aw^i Hamnhaly wh:) were brothers. He dis- 
covered but an '.ndiHereot geuius for panting under his first 
master Prospno Fontana; woo therefore dissuaded him trom 
pursuing itanv farther, and treated him so rougiily, that Lu' 
doviio left his school. However, he was detei mined to supply 
the defects of nature by art; and henceforward had recourse 
to no other master than the woiks of the great painters. Me 
went to Venice, where the famous Tintorci seeing something 
of his doing, encouraged him to proceed in his profession, and 
foretold that he should in time be one of the first in it. 1 his 
proplietic applause animated his resolutions to ac(|uire a mas- 
tery in his art ; and he travelled about to study tiie works of 
those who had excelled in it. He studied Titian's^ TimoreCsy 
and Paulo P^erones 's works at Venice ; Andrea cte' Sartd's at 
Florence : Correggio''s at Parma ; and J.-lio Jionw?w''sdt Man- 
tua : but CorregguPs manner touched h mi most sensibly, and 
he followed it ever after. He excelled in design and colorinp-, 
and a peculiar gracefulness. 

Augustine Caracci was born in 1557, and Ilannibarin 
1560. Their father, though a taylor by trade, was yet very 
careful to give hissons alibcral education. Augustine begun to 
Study as a scholar; but his genius leading him to art he was 
afterwardsput toagoldsmith. Ilequitted this profession ina lit- 
tle time, ndthen deviated to everything that pleased hisfanc}'. 
He first put himself under the tuition of his cousin Ludovicoy 
and became a very good designer and painter. He gained some 
knowledge likewise of all the parts of the mathematics, natural 
pliilosophv, rhetoric, music, and most of the liberal arts and 
sciences. He was also a tolerable poet, and very accomplished 
in many other respects. Though painting was the j)rore^sion 
he always stuck to, yet it was often interrupted by his pursuits 
in the art of engraving, which he learnt of Cornelius Corty and 
in which he surpassed all the masters of his time. 

HannibalCaracci in the mean time w asa disciple of Zj/rfo- 
wcas Vi'ftWdk^hxihxoxhex Augustine ; but never wandered from 



his art, though he rambled througli ail those places which af- 
forded anv means of cult'Vatin<j; and perfectinj^ it. Among his 
man V admirable qualities, he had so prodigious a memorv,that 
whatever he had once seen, he never failed to retain and make 
his own. 'Thus at Parma, he acquired the sweetness and pu- 
rity of Con'et^sio ; at Venice, the strength and distribution 
of colors of Titian ; at Rome, the correctness of design and 
be<iutifui forms of the antique; and bv his wonderful perfor- 
mance in the Farnesc palace, he soon made it appear, that all 
the several perfections of the most eminent masters, his pre- 
decessors, were united in himself. 

At letigth these three painters, having made all the advantages 
they could bv observation and practice, formed a plan of as- 
sociation, and continued henceforward almost always toge* 
ther. Ludovii'o communicated his discoveries freelv to h>g 
cousins, and proposed to them that they should unite t eir 
sentiments and their manner, and ^ct as it were in confedera- 
cy. The proposal was accepted: they performed several 
things in several places ; and findmg their credit increase, 
they laid the foundation of that celebrated school, which evejr 
since has gone by the name of the Caracci's academy. Hi- 
ther all the young students, who had a view of becoming 
masters, resorted to beinstrucif ;! isi the rudimentsof painting : 
and here the Caram taught frceiv and without reserve to all 
that came. Ludovicd's charge was to make a collection of an- 
tique statues and bas-reliefs. They had designs of the best 
masters, and a collection of curious books on all subjects re- 
lating to their art: and they had a skilful anatomist always 
ready to teacii v.hat belonged to the knitting and motion of 
the i>ones, mutjcles, he. There were often disputations in the 
academy; and not only painters but men of learning proposed 
questions, which were alwavsdecidedby Ludovico. Everybody 
was w^ell received;an<l though stated hours wereallotted to treat 
of different matters, yet improvements might be made at all 
times bv tlie antiquities and the designs that were to be seen, 

Thefameofthe tlV/Y/fc/reachingRomejthe Cardinal Famese 
sent for Nannibaf thither, to paint the gallery of his palace. 
Hannibal was the more willing to go, because he had a great 
desire to see Raffaelle'swoxks^ with the antique statues and bas- 
reliefs. The gusto which he took there from the ancient sculp- 
ture, made him change his Bolognian manner for one more 

L 2 learned. 


learned, but less natural in the dpsiprn and in the coloring. Au- 
guxtine follov.ed Haivvihal, to assist him in h:s undertakin;^ ot" 
the Farnese gallery ; buttho b' ;)t, tcrsnot rii^htlv agreeing, the 
cardinal sent Augustine to the court of the dnke of Parma, in 
whose service he died in 1602, being only 4.5 years of age. His 
most celebrated piece of painting is that of the coauiiunion of 
St. Jtrotn^ in Bologna : " A piece," say? a connoisseur, *' so 
*' complete in all its parts, that it was much to be lamented the 
*' excellent author should withdraw himself from tlie practice 
" of an art, in which his abilities were so very extraordinary, 
** to follow the inferior profession of an engraver." Augustine 
had a ntural son, called Antonio^ who was broughtup a painter 
under his uncle Hannibal ; and who applied him.'^elf with so 
much success to the studv of ail the capital pieces in Rome, 
that it is thought he would have surpassed even Hannibalh\va- 
self, if he had lived ;but he died at the age of 35, in 1618. 

Meanwhile Hanyiibal Qon\\nnc<\ working in the Farnese gal- 
lery at Rome ; and after inconceivable pains and care, finished 
the paintings in the perfection thev are now to be seen. He 
hoped that the cardinal would iiave rewarded him in some pro- 
portion to the excellence of this work, and to tlie time it took 
him up, which was eight years ; but he was disappointed. The 
cardinal, influenced byan ignor;»iit Spaniard his domestic, gave 
himbuta little above 200l. though it is certain, he deserved 
more than twice as many thousands. When the money was 
brought him, he was so surprised at the injustice done him, 
tiiat he could not speak a word to the person who brought it. 
This confirmed him in a melancholy which his temper natural- 
ly inclined to, ancl ma<le him resolve never more to touch his 
pencil ; and this resolition he had gndpuijtedly kept, if his 
necessities had not comppiled him to break it. It is said, that 
his pnelancholy gained so much upon him, that at certain 
times it deprivc() hiui of the right use of his senses. It did not, 
however, stop his amours ; which at Naples, whither he re^ 
tired for ^he recovery of his health, brought a di.steniper 
upon him, of wltiph he died at 49 years of age. As in his 
life he had imitated JiafJ'adU' in his works, so he seems to 
havQ copied that great master in the cau.^e and manner of his 
death. His veneration for JijJI'aellc was indeed so great, tliat 
it was his death-bed request, to be buried in the same tomb 
with him ; whiclv was accordingly done in the Pantheon 
or Rotunda at Rome. There are extant several prints 



of the blessed Viroin, and of otlier subjects, etched by the 
hand of this inconipaiable artist. He is said to have been a 
friendly, plain, honest, and open-hearted man ; very com- 
municative to his scholars, and so extremely kind to them, 
that he geiiorallv kej)t his money in the same box with his co- 
lors, wherti they might liav<i recourse to either, as they had 

While llannibal Caracci worked at Rome, Ludovico was 
courted from all parts of Lombardy, especially by tlie clero^y, 
to make pictures in their churches; and v.e may judge of his 
capacity and facility, by tlie greatnumber of pictures he made, 
and bv tlie pi e:erence that was given him over other painters. 
In the midst of these employments, Hannibal solicited him to 
come aiid assist him in the Farnese gallery; and so earnestly 
that he could not avoid complying with his request. He wenk 
t.u Rome; corrected several things in that gallery; painted 
a fijTure or two himself, and then returned to Bologna, where 
he died, 1619, aged 63. 

Had the Cavacci had no reputation of their own, yet the me- 
rit of their disciples, in the acacemv whicli they founded, 
M'ould have reniiered their name illustrious in succeedingtimes; 
among them '.vere Giiido, Domenichino, Lavfravco, &c. &c. 

Camillo, GiuLio Cf.sare, and Carl' Antonio, the sons 
and disciples of I.rcole Procaccini, tlourished at this time. 
They were natives of Bologna, but upon some misunderstand- 
ing between them and t:.e Caracci, removed to Milan, where 
they spent the greatest part of their lives, and set up an 
academy of design, famous for producing many excellent 
j)ainters. Of t.icse brothers 

Camillo, the eldest, abounded in invention and spirit; but 
was a great mannerist, and rather studied the beauty thar» 
correctness of his designs. He 1 ved very splendidly; kept his 
carriage, and a numerous retinue; and died A. D. 1 628, aged 80. 

Giul: Cesare was both a sculptor and painter, and famous 
in Home, Modena, Venice, Genoa, Bologna, and Milan, for 
several admirable things of his hand. He was the best of all 
♦■iie Procaccini\ and surpassed bis brother Camillo in the truth 
and purity of his out lines, and in the strength and boldness 
of his figures. He hved 78 years. 

Carl' Antonio was an excellent musician, and as well 
skilled in the harmony of colors, as of sounds ; yet not being 



able to com" up to t ie perfections of his brothers in historical 
eompositions, he appl ed himself whollv to land capes and 
flouers; and was much esteemed for his performances in way. 

Krcolk, the son of CarP Antonio, was a disciple of his 
^^nc\GJulio Ccsare, and so happy in imitat ng his manner, 
that he was sent for to the court of the duke of Savov, and 
hig'dv honored and nobly rewa'ded bv that princ ■, for his 
services. Me was besides an admirable lutenist ; and d ed 80 
years old, A.I). ]616. 

HE^"RY GoLTZius a famous painter and engraver, M-as 
born in looS, at Mulbrec in the ducbv of Juiiers ; and learn- 
ed his art at Haerlein, where he marrit'd. Falling into a bad 
state of health, which was attended with a shortness of breath 
and spitting of blood, he resolved to travel into Italy. His 
friends remonstrated against a man in his condition stirring : 
but he answered, that " he had rather die learning some- 
** thing than live in such a languisiiing state." Accordingly 
he passed through most of the chief cities of Germany, where 
he visited the painter*;, and the curious ; and went to Rome 
and Na;)ies, where he studied the works of the best masters^ 
and designed an infinite number of pieces after them. To 
prevent his being known, he passed for his man's servant; 
oretending that he was maintained and kept by him for bis 
skill in painting : and by this stratagem he came to hear what 
was said of his works, without being known, which was a 
liigh pleasure to him. His disguise, his diversion, the exer- 
cise of travelling, and the diHerent air of the countries 
through which he travelled, had such an effect upon his con- 
st! ution, that he recovered his former health and vigor. He 
rc!a ).-.ed, however, some time after, and died at Haerlem 
m 1617. 

GiosEPPE d'Arpi^no, commonly called Cavalier Giosep- 
fiNo, born in the kingdom of Naples, A.D. 1560, was car- 
ried very young to Rome, and put to some painters then at 
work in the Vatican, to grind their colors; but the quickness 
of his apprehension having soon made him master of the ele- 
ments of design, lie had the fortune to (m-ow very famous by 
degrees; and besides the respect shewn him by pope (jtegoy 
Xlll. and his successors, was so well received by the French 
king Lewis Xlll. that he made hirw a knight of the order of St. 



Michael. He has the character of a florid invention, a ready 
hand, and a good spirit in ad hisworks; but vet havingno sure 
toundation, either in the study of nature, or the rules of art, 
lie has run into a multitude ol errors, anci been guilt v oi many 
extravac::ancie«. He died at Rome, A.D. 1640, aged SO. 

Cavalier Francesco Vanni, born at Sienna, in the duke- 
dom of Tuscany, A 1). 1563, > as a discij3le of rliramch Su- 
//;/?/'t7«" (his godfather) and afterwards of Juderho Ziuchero; 
but quitted their m nner to follow that of Barocci ; whom he 
imitated in his ciioice of religious subjects, as well as m his 
gusto of pcdnting. "Ihe most considerable works of this 
master are in several churches of Sienna, and are much com- 
mended both for the beautv ot their coloring, and correctness 
of their design. He died A.D. 1610. aged 47, having been 
knigliteJ by* pope Ci'^mcnt VIII. for his famous piece,, of the 
Fall o^ Simon Mugus, in the Vatican. 

Hans Rottenhamer was br.rn at Munich, the metropolis 
of Bavaria, A I). 1564, and after he h id studied s. me time m 
Germany, under Dono-jow ( n ordinary pamter) went to V^e- 
nice, and Decame a disciple ot Tintont. He j)ainte4.hoth in 
fresco and od, l)ut h^s talents la\ chieny in the latter, and his 
peculiar excedence was in i t^ie pieces. His invention was free 
and easy, his design ind.ierotiy correct, h)s attitudes genteel, 
and his coloring very agreeable. He \Vas wed c-tt emed both 
in Italy and his own coniitrv, and by his profession mignt iiave 
acquired great wealth; out he was so wonderfuil v e.xtrava- 
ga;;t in his -vav of living, t!iat lie consumed it miicii faster 
than it came in, and at last died so poor, tiiat his IriL'iiJs were 
forced to make a purse to burv hni, \.D. 1604, aged 40. 

Nicholas iiiLL[ARD,ace'ebr^tcdEnalish lnTinerj.\\ hodrev.' 
j^/^/3^ queen of cots m wuter colours, when she was but 18 
yearsof age ; wrierein he succeeded to .idmiration, and gained 
general applause : he was bo ;i goldsmith, carver, and limner, 
to queen Elizabeth^ whose p ctuie he drew several t mesj 
particularlv once, when he made a wlioie length of !ier, sittino- 
on her throne. The famou.s Donne has ceebrated this pain- 
ter in a poem, calicd " The Storm;' where fie says, 

" An liand, an eve, 
" By Hilliard drawn, is worth an history." . 

IsAA'c Oliver, an Fhigli.-h paiUier, v.ho hourished abont the 
end of queen Elizabeth\ reign. He was eminent for history 



and face painting, many pieces of which were in the pos- 
session of the latti duke of Nvrjolk. As he was a very good 
designer, his drawings were rinislied to an extraordinary per- 
fection; some of them being admirable cojiics after Pcn-mc- 
gianOy &c. He received some hght in his art from Ftdenco 
ZucckerOy who came into England in that reign. He was very 
neat and curious in his limnings, as might be seen from several 
of his history pieces in tlie queen's closet. He was likewise 
a very good painter in miniature. He died between fifty 
and sixty years old, in Chavks I's reign, and was buried in 
Biackfriars, where there was a monument erected to his 
memor}-, with his busto, but since destroyed by the fire 
in 1666. 

He left a son, Petet\ whom he had instructed in his art, and 
wlio became exceedingly eminent in miniature ; insomuch 
that in portraits, he surpassed his father. He drew \i\v)^ James 
I. the princes Ilcnrjj and Charles^ and most of the court at 
that time. He lived to near sixty, and was buried in the same 
place with his fatlicr, about 1665. 

Michael Ancelo Merigi, born 1 569, at Caravaggio, from 
whence he derived his name, was at first (like his countrvman 
PoljjdorcJ no better than a day-labourer, till having seen some 
painters at work upon a brick ^vall which he had prepared lor 
tiiem, he was so charmed with their art, that he immediately 
addressed himself to the study of it ; and in a few years made 
so considerable a j>rogress, that in Venice, Rome, and several 
other parts of Italy, he was cried up, and admired by all the 
voung men, as the author of a new style of painting. Upon his 
first con)ing to Rome, his necessities compelled him to ]>ainc 
flowers and fruit under cavalier (iioseppino; but being sooti 
weary of that subject, and returning to his former practice of 
histories, with Hguresdrawnto the middle only; he madeuseof 
a mcthod,quitedilferent from the conduct ofG/?>.sv7J/j/;?o,andrun- 
ning into the contrary extreme, followed the life as much too 
close, asthe other deviated from it. He affected a way peculiar to 
himsclfjof deeji and dark shadows, togivchispieces the greater 
relievo, and despising all other help but what he receired from 
nature alone, (whom he took with all her faults, and copied 
witliont indgment or discretion) his in\cntion became so poor, 
that he could never draw anything without his model before his 



eyes, and therefore understood but little, either of design or 
decorum, in his compositions. He liad, indeed, an admirable 
coloring, and great strength in all his works; but those pictures 
which he made in imitation of the manner of Givgume, were 
his best, because they were more mellow,and have nothino-of 
that blackness in them, in which he afterwards deiighted. He 
was as singular in his tcinpcr, as in his gusto of pa ntino ; fuJl 
of detraction, and so strangely contentious, that his pencil was 
no sooner out of his hand, but liis sword was in it. Rome he 
iiad made too hot for hiin, by killing one of his friends iu a 
dispute at tennis. And it was believed, his voyage to Malta 
was taken with no other view, but to get himself knifvlitod by 
the grand master, that he might be qualified to fight cavalier 
Gioseppinc, who hud refused his challenge, because he was a 
knight, and would not{he saidjdrawaswordagainsthisinfer.'or. 
But ill his return home wicii the pope's pardon in his pocket, a 
fever put an end to the quarrel and his life, in 1609, af^ed 40. 
F.LLippo D'Anceli was a Roman, born about this time ; 
but called NAPOLiTANO,because his father carried him to Na- 
ples when he was very young. At his return to Rome, he ap- 
plied liimscif to the antiquities; but unhappily left that study 
too soon, atid followed the manner of his cotemporary M.Aiu 
gelo da Caravaggio. He practised for tae most part in battles 
and landscapes, with ligures finely touched ; was everywhere 
well esteemed for his works, and emplj^-edb}' several princes 
in many of the churches wnd palaces at Rome, Naples, and 
Venice ; at the last of which places he died, aged 40. 

Breugel. There were three painters named Rreugel 
viz. Peter the father, and his two sons, Peter and John : Breu- 
gel the father, commoidy called old Bieugel, was born at a vil- 
lage of the same name, near Breda. He was first the pupil 
of Peter Cock, whose daughter he married, and afterwards 
studied under Jerom Cock, of Bolduc. It was his common cus- 
tom to dresslikea countryman, that he mighthave better access 
to the country people, and join with them in their frolics at their 
feasts and marriages. By these means, he acquired a perfect 
knowledge of their manners and gestures, of winch he made 
excellent use inhispictures. He travelled to France and Italy, 
where he employed himself upon every thing that came in his 
way. In all his works he took nature for his guide. He studied 
Vol. IV. M part 2 landscapes 


landscapes a long time on the mountains of Tvrol, TTis chear- 
fui anJ ha u irons turn of inin'l lisplavc i it elf ii al' tis pic- 
tures, -vhic'i generally coiisistecl of m rches of arinos, sports 
and diversions, country dances and ui.irri ges. At h s return 
from Italy, Resettled at Xntwerp. In 155 1 , he married at "'rus- 
selsthe daughter of Pefer Cn-fi-. I • 'lis last illness he c n~-ed 
his wife tog.ther all his immodest pictures and drawings, and 
burn tliem before his face. He lied at Antwerp. 

Breugel ; John) the son of Pkter, was born at Rreugel 
about 1569. Two Flcinish .ait!iorsgive ilifferent accounts ot'his 
education : one assures us that he \'as educMt-d bv tlie widow 
of Peter Cock^ commonly called PeUr Fan Aaht. bis u icle 
\>\ his mother, wit^h whom he le I'ued to paint in n)iniature, 
and that after\vard> he stude.l j)ainting i i oil witii one /V/rr 
Goekint^ whose fine cabinet served at once instend of a scho-^l 
and .. master. The other author, vvho often contradicts thr for- 
mer, asserts, that Jo/in Bieaitl le.irned the tirst principles of 
his art under the tu'tion of his father ; but the diil'cre. ce ob- 
servablf^ in their nanners renders tiis ver • improhable How- 
ever it be, John Bre^igd A\i\\ ed himself to pa;nti!tg flowers 
and fruits wit i great care and won lerful sa^acitN' ; he after- 
wards had great sucress in drawing landscapes, and sea views 
enlivened with small tigures. ITe did not, however, neglect 
his turn for tlowers and fru ts, of wh'ch he made excellent use 
in cmheHisliitiglns other works. He lived long at ("ologiu', and 
acquireda reputation which wiil last to the latest posterity. He 
made a journev to Italv, wliere his reputation had got before 
him; and his landrcapes, adoriicd wit!) smal! figures, su- 
perior to those of his father, gave very sat sfaction. He 
had the name of Fluweei en, froui his affecting to wear vel- 
vet clo.iths. If we mav judge b-- the great number oF pictures 
he left, he must have been e.xceediiigh- acti- e and laborious ; 
and his pieces, as they are all highly finished, must have taken 
tip much of his time. He d d not satisfy himself with embel- 
lishing his own works oMly, but wasverv useful in this respect 
to his IVien i-. Even Rubens made use of /i/r;ii^eP> hand in the 
landscape put of several of h-s small pirtures. such a.s the 
Vevfuniwis and Pomona n!>^ are so peif ct, tliat no 
one, it is said, has yet been able to co|)y them. He died in 
1625: it is remarkable, that tie never had a pupil. 



Adam Flsheimer, born at Franokfort upon the- "May ne, 
A.U 1.374, was at lirst a discipie ut' PluliiJ Vffcnbach^ a Ger- 
mail ; but ati urdent desire of improvciuciit carrying biui to 
Rome, e SDoti became asupenor artist in laiuiscapes, histories, 
anduight pieces, wiiii little liguics. His works are very few j 
andfoi theiuciedib epamsaiiciiabour which he bestowed upon 
them, valued at such protiigious rates, that they are hardly .iny 
A-lierc to be found but in the cabinets of priri^ces. He was a 
person b; nature niclinedtonielanc!ioly,and throughcontinued 
studyandthougiittinnessjso far settled in that unhappy teiiipcr, 
thiit !iegiectuig nis ; wii domestic concerns, debts catne thick 
upon him, and nnpi'isonment iollc ed ; which ?>truck such a 
damp upon his spiru>, tnoutzh he was soon ieleased,hedid 
not long survive '.t, but died in 16 10, or thereabout, <.ged ^6. 

(jUido IiENi,an Iiahan |)ainter,was bornati5o/t'^w/,ui lo75, 
and learned the rudunents of painting under JJenis Calvert j^ 
Flemish master, who taught ni that c.ty, and hud a good repu- 
tation. But, the acadcmv of the Ca/'c/a7 begintnng to be taiked 
of, Giiido left his nuister,and entered h.mself of tnat school. He 
chieHyimirated Z,//</ouTo('i/rfifa7,yet always retained somethmg 
of CalvoCs manner. He made the same use oi' yJ/bert J^ireVy 
as Virgil did of old Ennias, borrowed what he pleased from 
him, and made it his own; that is, he accommodated w hat \\ as 
good in Albert to his own n)anner. This he executed with so 
much gracefuhiess and beauty that he alone got more money 
and more reputation in his time than his own masters, and all 
the scholars of tite Caracci, though they were of greater capa- 
city than himself. He was charmed with Bajf'ae/lt-^s picturtts ; 
yet his own heads are not at all inferior to Bajj utile'' s. Mich-ad 
Angela, moved probably with envy, is said to have spoken 
very contemptuously of his pictm'es ; and his insolent expres- 
sions might have had ill consequences, had not Guido prudent- 
ly avoided disputing Avitli a man of his impetuous temper. 
Guido acquired some skill also in music, by the instruction of 
his fatiier, who was aii eminent professor of that art. 

Great were the honors this painter received from Paul V. 
from all tlie cardinals and princes of Italy, from Louis Xllf. of 
France, Philip XIV. of Spain, and from Udislaus king of Po- 
land and Sweden, who, besides a noble reward, made him a 
compliment, in a letter under his oAvn hand, for an Europa he 

M 2 had 


had sent him. He Avas extremely handsome and graceful in his 
person ; and so beautiful in his younger days, that his master 
JLiidoviiOy in painting his angels, took him for his model. Nor 
was he an angel only in his looks, if we believe what Gioscp- 
pino tuld the pope, when he asked his opinion of Guido's per- 
formances in the Capella Quirinale, " Our pictures-," said he, 
*' are the works of men's hands, but t'.iese are made by hands 
*' divine." In his behaviour lie was modest, gentle, and very 
obliging ; lived in great splendor both at Bologna and Rome ; 
aiid was only unhappy in his immoderate love of gaming. To 
this in his latter days he abandoned himself so entirely, that 
all the money he could get by his pencil, or borrow upon in- 
terest, was too little to supply his losses : and he was at last re- 
duced to so poor and mean a condition, that the consideration 
of his present circumstances, together with reflections on his 
former reputation and high manner of living, brought a lan- 
guishing distemper on him, of which he died in 164-2. Mischief 
pictures are in the cabinets of the great, 'J'he most celehrated 
of his pieces is that which he painted in concurrence with I)o' 
me)iichino,\n the church of St. Gregorjj. There are s^everal de- 
signs of this great master in print, etched by himself. 

Marcello Provznzale, of Cento, born A.D. 1575, was a 
man of singular probity and virtue, very regular in the con- 
duct of his life, an able painter, and in Mosaic works superior 
to all mankind. He was a disciple oi' Paulo Rosefti, and his 
co-adjutor in those noble perfoniiances, in St, Peter's chwvch 
in Rome. He refitted the famous ship made by Gidlo, ;;rid 
added to it several curious figures of his own. He restored also 
some of the ancient Mosaics (brokeii and almost ruined hv 
time)to their primitive beauty. But nothing got him a greater 
name than his portrait of pope Paul V, in the Palazzo Borg- 
hese ; apiece wrought with such exquisite art and judgment, 
that though it was composed of innumerable bits of stone, the 
pencil, even of Titiany hardly ever carried any thing to a 
hig'ier point of perfection. He died at Rome, A. U. lG:39,aged 
6 ^ of discontent, it was feared, to find himself so poorly re- 
warded, in his life time, for those glorious works, wiiich he 
foresaw ^vould be inestimable after his decease. 

Gio. Battista Viola, a Bolognese, born A.D. L576,was 
a disciple of Hannibal Caracci, by whose assistance he ar- 


rived to an excellent manner in landscape-painting, which he 
chiefly studied, and Cor wiucii he .vas well esteemed m Rome, 
and several other patts ol Italy. But pope Gregory XV. hav- 
ing made him keeper olhis palace, and given him a pension 
of 500 crowns per annan), to reuard him for the services 
which he h:A done for him when he avus Cardinal, he quitted 
his pencil, and practising music only, (wherein he disc ex- 
celled) difc-dsoon afler, A.D. 1622, aged 46. 

Sir Peter Paul Rubens, the prince of the Flemish pain- 
ters, was horn in 1517 at Cologne : whither his latiier John 
Rubnis, counsellor in the senate of Antwerp, liad been driven 
by the civil wars. His excellent genius, and tiiecare that was 
taken in his education, made every thing easy to h'ni ; bu,t he 
had not resolved upon any profession when his father died ; 
and, the troubles in the Netherlands abating, his family re- 
turned to Antwerp. He pursued hisstudies there in the belles 
lettres, and at his leisure hours diverted himself with de- 
sio-ning. His mother, perceiving in him an inclination to this 
ar°, permitted him to place himself under Adam Van Moort 
first, and Otho Venius after ; both which masters he presently 
equalled. He only wanted to improve his talent by travelling,^ 
and for this purpose went to Venice ; where, in the school of 
Titian^ he perfected his knowledge of the principles of color- 
ing. Afterwards he went to Mantua, and studied the works of 
Jidio Romano ; and thence to Rome, where Avith the same care 
he applied himself to the contemp ation of the antique, the 
paintings of lUiffaclle, and every thmg that might contribute 
to finish him in his art. What was agreeable to his taste, he 
made his own, either by copying, or making reflections upon 
it ; and he generallyaccompan ied those reflections with designs, 
drawn with a light stroke of his pen. 

He hadbeenseven years in Italy ,when,receivingadyice that 
his mother was ill, he took post,and returned to Antwerp: but 
she died before his arrival. Soon after he married; but, losing 
his wife atthe end of four years,heleit Antwerpfor some time, 
and endeavored to divert his sorrow by ajourney to Holland ; 
where he \\^\\.iidHuntorstdit Utrecht,ior whom he had a great 
value. He married a second wife,who was a beauty, and helped 
him very m.uch in his figures of women. His reputation being 
spread over Europe, Mary of Mtdicis, wife of Henry IV. of 
France,invited him to Paris ; whither he went,and painted the 



Luxemburg s^allery, Vere the duke oi" Buckingham became 
ac()uaiined with him, and was so taken with his solid and pene- 
tratingpcirts,as well as hisskillin hi.sprofessiou,th;it he i.s saidto 
have recommend d him »o the infanta Isabel/a, w.iosent him 
her amliassacior into F'.ngiand,t(Uiego( iatc a peace with 6Virt//« 
I- in 163(). He coiichided the treaty, and pa'nieu the banquet- 
ting-house; for winch the king paid him a large sum of money, 
and knighted him. He was an intimate friend to f!ie duke of 
£u kingham ; and be sold the duke as many pxtuies, statues, 
inedals,iindantiques,ascameto iO,Oi^Ol i e returned to Spain, 
where lie was m.ignihcentiv rewarded by Philip iV. for the 
scrv ces he had done him. Going scon after to K,anaers,he had 
the post of secretary of state conferred on him ; t)ut did not 
leave oiThis profession He diec! in 1640, leaving- vast nclies 
behind !" m to his children ; of whom Albert., the eldest, suc- 
ceede.l h lu in the office of secretary of state in Fi.tuders. 

But besides his talent 'n paint:ng,and h s adniiraiile skill in 
architecture, which disp.a\s itself in theseveral C4iuiche> and 
palaces built after his de>igns .it (jenoa,he was a person pos- 
sessed of all the ornaments and iidvaiitages t!)at c^n render a 
man valuable:was universally learned,spokeseveral languages 
perfectly, was well read in history, and withal an excellent 
statesman. His usu.d abode was at Antwerp; where he budt a 
spacious apartment in injitation cf tl)e Rotunda at Rome, for a 
noble collection of pictures which he had purchased in Italy; 
and some of which, as m e have observed, lie sold to the tlid<e 
of Buckingham. He lived in the highest esteem, reputation, 
audgrauucur imaginable ; was as great a patron, as master, of 
his art; and so much adnured ai over Europe for his singular 
endowments, thi.t no stranger of iaiytpialitv coiddpassthrough 
tlie Low Countries, without seeing a uian oi \\hv;m they had 
heard so much. 

His school was full of admirable disciples, among whom Van 
Dyke best comprehended the rules and maxims of his master. 

Horatio Gi^ ntileschi, an Italian painter, was born atPisa 
in 1563. After having made himself famous at Florence, Rome,' 
Genoa, and other parts of Italv, he removed to Savoy ; from 
whence he went to Fiance, and at last, upon the invitation of 
Charles l.came over to I'.ngiand. He was well received by that 
kingjwho appointed him lodgings in his coiu't, together with a 
great salary; and employed him in his palace at Greenwich* 



and other public places. Tlie most remarkable of his perforni- 
anres in Kngian 1, were the ceilings of Greenwich and York- 
house. He did also a M ulona, a Mai^i-iuhn, and Lot with iii.s 
two dauo'iUT-;, for kuiir Charles , all wh ch he performed ad- 
mirablv well. After th • death oft lie kin-^, when his collection 
of pictures wer<' cKpo-ed to sale, nine pictures o|" Gentdesrhi 
were sold for 60 )1. Hi-; ni )st e>tecine I piece abroad, was the 
portico of carduud Bentivoi^lio'i palace at Konie. He made 
several attempts m face p<iintiii<r, but w tli little success; his 
talent I vino- altogether \w histories, with HyurL's as large as life. 
He was much in favor wit'i t!«;' du'ieof 'iucking'Mm,dMd many 
others of the nobilitv. After 12 -ears' contmuanc ■ m Kngland, 
he died here at84 ^earsof age, and was ur;ed m the queen's 
c-h.ipel at *>omers' t-'iouse. His print ^samo igthe tseads of I'^an- 
dyke^ he having been drawn b^- that great m ister. 

He left behind him a daughf-er, Jrttmisia (rtniiltstlu^who 
^•as but little inferior to her father in histor -paiiiting,and ex- 
celled him in portraits. She hved t!ie greatest part of iur t UiC 
at Naples in miic!) splenJoi ; and was as f m ^us all over i^u- 
rope for her gallantry as ftrr her painting. She drew many hii»- 
torv-pieces a«; big as t'le lif.-; among which, tiie mo.-.t celebrat- 
ed was that of Jjuvid wit.h the head of Goliath m Jiis hand. She 
drew also the portraits of some of the royal family, and many 
of the nobility of 1 ngland. 

Fpancis Albani, was born in Rologna, March 17, I57S. 
His father v.-as a silk njercnant, and intended to bring Uji his 
son to that t)usiness; h\x\.Aibani having a strong ini.lincit.on to 
painting,when hisfather d:ed,de voted hi mselftothatartjthough 
then but twelve ve.irs of age. He hrst stu.i.ed under Dmis 
Calvert; Gidao /,'eni be-n- ai the same tioieuniler thi.s master, 
M'ith whonj /^M^/??/ contracted a great fre idship. Culver/ diew 
but one profi'.e for Albania and afterward- left him entirely to 
the care oxGuulo ; U'ider whom he made great improvement, 
ins fellow di.scipie instructing him with tiie utmos- kindness 
and good humor. He followei (j\iklo to the school of the Ca- 
racri, but afterwards their fricnd.'.hip began to cool : owing 
perhap ; t) the pride of Albaid, who coulJ not boar to see Gui^ 
do surpass hmi, or to the jtalousy o^ Guido at finding Albani 
makesoswifta progress. Thev certain. yendeavored toeciipse 
ene aiiother ;fov v.heu Guiao had se-. up a beautiful altar-piece, 



j^/bam would oppose to it some fine picture of his : tlius did 
they behave for some time, and yet spake of each other Avith 
thehighestestcem. y^/^r//»',after havinggrcatly improved him- 
self iinderthe Ca)-acci,\\'cutto Rome, where hecontinucd many 
years ii'K-' muirir^d, but his wife dying in childbed, at tlie ear- 
nest request of his rehitions, he returned to Bologna, where 
he married again. His secondw'ifc fI)orahceJ\va.s well descend- 
ed, but had Ittle fortune ; which he [perfectly disregarded, so 
strongly was ne captivated with her beauty and good sense. 
Albanij besides the satisfaction of possessing an accomplished 
■wife reaped likewise the advantage of a most beautiful model. 
His wife answered tijis purpose aduiirabiy well ; for besides 
her youth and beauty, he di.-covered in her so much modesty 
and graces, that it was impossd)le for him to meet with a more 
finished woman. She afterwards broug!jt him several boys, so 
that she and her chikiren were the originals of his most agree- 
able and graceful compositions. Doralicc took a pleasure in 
setting the children in different attitudes, holding them naked, 
and sometimes suspended by strings, when Albani would draw 
them. F'tom them too, the fam;jus sculptors I'iamingo and 
Algardi modelled tiieir cupids. 

AlbauiwdJ^ well versed in some branches of polite literature, 
but did not understand Latin, nmch to his regret; he endea- 
vored to supply this defect by carefully perusing translations. 
He excelled in ail parts of painting, but was particularly ad- 
mired for his small pieces, tho' he himself was nmch dissatisfied 
that his large pieces, many of which he painted for altars, were 
not equally applauded. Hedelightedmuch indrawingthe fair 
sex, Avhom he has represented with wonderiu! beauty ; but has 
been reckoned not so happy iu his imitation of men. 

Albani was of a happy temper and disposition, his paintings 
and designs breathing nothing but cohtentand joy : happy in 
a force of mmd that con juercd every uneasiness, liis poetical 
pencil carried him through the most agreeable gardens to 
Paphos and Cytherea. 

He died the 4th of October, 1 660, to the great grief of all 
his friends and the whole city of Bologna. 

He was very famous in his life-time, and had been visited by 
the greatest painters: several princes honored him with letters, 
and amoiigst the rest king Chculesl. who invited him to Eng- 
land by a letter signed with his own hand. 



Francis, born at Antwcrj), A. I). 1579, n-;ts bi>'d 
lip urulei- Hcnnj f'an Balcniy !iis coiintrvin m; l)ut ov-.';l n\o^t 
of his iiiiprovement to his studies iii It.ilv. He p.iinte t all 
sorts of wild IxMsts and other aniinuls, (iiritiniJs, Hs'i, i'riiit, 
vkc. in |)>.'rfection : was utU'O emploveJ Dv t'le king- of. 
Spain, and si-vcral other prince^, and cverv where nuich 
coninK-nded for liis works. 

DoMENiciiiNo, was descend'-'d of an honorable family, and 
born in Holoi^na, l.JSl. \\v was at fn-sl a disciple of Calvvrt, 
the KJeniino-: bnt soon quitred his scfiooi lor a much bet'erof 
the C.avaci;\^ bein'j;- in trucu;d at H(«io>:n i liv Liuiovicu^ .ind 
at Hcmvi b\- Hannibal, who had >-o tr>'fat a v. due for, that 
he took him to hiS assistance in the Fanwse gaileiw He was 
so extremeiv laborious and slow in his productions, that his 
fellow disciples looked upon him as a person tliat lost his t me. 
Thev were wont to call him *' the ox;" and s id " he labored 
*' as if he was at plow." Hut IJanmhal Caracci^ who kew him 
better, told them that " this ox, bv dint of lab r, « ould n time 
*' make his ground so fruitful, tliat painting it.^eif won d be 
" led bv uliat it produce.] :" a prophecv, which /-omenichino 
lived to fulhl ; for though he was not, profjerlv speaking, a 
genius, vet, bv the goodness of his sense, and trie solulitv of 
his reHectiotis, he attained to such a materv in his art, 
that there are manv excellent things in his pictures. He ap- 
plied himself to Uis work with much studv and thought, and 
never oliered to touch his pencil, till he found a k nd of en- 
thusiasm or insp ratKui upon iiim. His talent la- principdlv 
in the correctness ol his style, and in expressing the p..ssions 
and a'Tectioiis of the mind. In these he «as so aduurubiv ju.ii- 
cious,that Aichulas Poiissi/i, the French pa ute. , u^ed to sav, 
his " communion of t Jcrouiy'' audliajfjtl/t^s celebrated piece 
of" the I ransfigiiral ion," were t!ie two best pictures in Home. 
He was made thee lief arc.'ntect of tiie apo. toiiCa,. palace by 
pope Gregory XV. for his g. eat skill in that art He was ike- 
wissi Weil versed m the theorv of music, but not successfid in 
the ractice. He loved solitude ; and as he went along tie 
streets, he took notice of the v.ctions of piivate persons iie 
met, and otten designed sometliing in ids p( cket-boc.k. He 
was of a mild" temper and obliging carr.age, y.'t bad the mis. 
fortune to tind enemies in all places wlierevcr he came. \t 
Naples particulacly, he was so ill treated by those of his own 
Vol. IV. ' A' part 2 pro- 


profession, that having agreed uniong thetnscKvs to dispuraj^e 
all his works, they would hardly allow him to be a tolerable 
master : and they were not content with having frightened him 
for some time from that city, but afterwards, upon his return 
thither, never left persecuting him, till, by their tricks and 
contrivances they hud quite wearied him out of his life. He 
died in 1641, not without the suspicion of poison. 

GiosEPPE RiBERA, a native of Valencia, in Spain, com- 
irtonly known by the name of SPAGNOLETTO,was an artist per- 
fect in design, and famous for the excellent manner of color- 
ing, which he had learned from Michael Au^clo da Cavravag- 
gio. He composed very often half-ligures onlv, and (like his 
master) was wonderfully strict in following the life ; but as 
ill-natured in the choice of his subjects, as in his behaviour 
to poor DoMENiCHiNo ; art'ecting generally something very 
terrible and frightful in his pieces, such as Prometheus with 
the vulture feeding upon his liver, Ca/o I'^ficensis weltering 
in his own blood, St. Bartholomew with the skin flaved off his 
body, &c. But, however, in all his work>, nature was imitated 
with so much art and judgment, that a certain hulv, big with 
child, havin^g cast her eyes upon an Ixion, whom he had le- 
presented in torture upon the wheel, received such an im- 
pression from it, that she brought forth an infiint,with fingers 
distorted, just like those in the picture. His usual abode was 
at Naples, where he lived very splendidly , being much in fa- 
vor with the viceroy, his countrvnian : and in great reputa- 
tion for his works in painting, ami lor several prints etched 
with his own hand. 

Giovanni Lanfranco, was born at Paruia, on the same 
day with Doynenichino , in 1. 58 1. Mis parents being poor, car- 
ried him to Placenza, into the service of the count Hoiatio 
Scotle. While he was there, he was always drawing with char- 
coal upon the walls, paper being too small for him to scrawl 
his ideas on. The count, observing his disposition, put him 
to Augustine Caracci; after whose death he Avent to Home, 
and studied under Haiuti ha/, who set him to work in the church 
of St. Jago, and found him capable of being trustes.1 with the 
execution of his designs : in \vh\ch Laii/rauco has left it a doubt 
whether the work be his or his master's. His genius lay to 
painting in fresco, in spacious places; as we may see in his 
grand performances, especially the cupola of St. Andrea de 


Lav'.il, wherein he has succeeded much belter tlian in pieces 
of a lesser size. The g-nsto ot his design he took from Han- 
nibal Caracci ; as long us he hved under the discipline of that 
illustrious master, he Avas always correct; but, after his 
master's death, lie gave a loose to the impetuosity of his ge- 
nius, without minding the rules of art. L<wfranco painted 
the liistory of St.. Jitter for pope Urban VUl. which was en- 
graved by Pietro Santi. He did other things in St. Pt'/cr's 
church, and pleased the pope so much that he knighted him. 

I.anfranco was hiip])y in hisfaniijy : his wife, who was very 
Imndsome, brotifrht him several children; who, being g-rown 
up, and delighting in poetry and music, made a sort of Par- 
nassus in his house. His eldest daughter sang finely, and 
played well on several instruments. He died in 1647, aged 66. 

Lanfrancd's works came from a vein, quite opposite to 
thoae otDomenic/nno : the latter made himself a painter in 
spite of Minava ; the former was born with a happy genius. 
DoDicnkhino invented with pain, and afterwards digested his 
compositions with judgment: Lan/ranco left all to his genius, 
the source whence flowed all his productions. JJomemchino 
studied to express the particular passions ; Lan/ranco con- 
tented himself Avith a general expression, and followed Han- 
vibaPs gusto of designing. J)onicnichmo, whose studies Avere 
always guided by reason, increased his capacity to his death : 
Lanjranco, v ho was supported by an exterior practice of 
UunnibaVs manner, diminished his every day after the death 
of his master. Donienichino executed his works with a slow 
and heavy hand ; Lanfranco\ hand was ready and light. To 
close all, it is hard to find two pupils, born under the same 
planet, and bred up in the same school, more opposite one 
to another, and of so contrary tempers ; yet this opposition 
does not hinder, but that they are both to be admired for 
their b. st productions. 

SisTo Badalocchi, his fellow-disciple, was ofParmaalso; 
and by the instructions of the Caracci, at Rome, became one 
ot' tiie best designers of their school. He had also many other 
t oinujcndable (jualities, and particularly facility, but wanted 
diligence. He jomed with his countryman Zfl?j/7'fl«co, in etch- 
ing the histories of the Bible, after the paintmgs oi RaffacilCy 
in the Vatican ; which they dedicated to Hannibal, their 
master. Hepractisedmostlyat Bologna, wliere he died young. 

iV2 Simon 


SimonVouet, a Kr'1u:1i painter, vorv ct-lelirated in liis 
<\iiy. was horn at P..nsin lo.S2 ; and br-od up under liis father, 
^vilo a I aniter also. lie was in sucli rtjjaitt', at tuentv 
ye.trs of a'j^e, t'lat Mons. dt Sancij, going ambassador to ( on- 
sta;)tnio})ie, took him as his painter. 'I here fie drewt e pic- 
ture of the grand sigii or b\ strength of memory oidv, and 
from a vie^v of him at the .embassador's audience, yet it wiii> 
extreinolv like. From thence he went to Venice ; and after- 
wards setthiig in Home, became so eminent that, l)esidesthe 
iavors he received from pope Urbun VIII. and the cardinal 
his nephew, he was chosen prince of the Roman iicademv of 
St. Luke. He staved fourteen years in Italy ; in Itj'i'?, Lcuts 
X •! who had allowed him a pension while he was abroad, 
?ent for him home to work in his palaces. He practised both 
in portraits and histories ; furnished some of the apartments 
oi"the Louvre, the p.daces of L>Tixembnrg and St. (.jennuns, 
the galleries of cardinal Richelieu^ and other public j)laces, 
witn hs worixs. His greatest peifection was his figret'abl*: 
coloring, .itt his brisk and lively pencil ; otherwise he was 
but verv ind:ffere,,tlv (jualitied. He hail no genius for gtand 
compositions, wus unhapp\ in his invention, unactjuainted 
with the rules of erspectve, .md uiiilerstood but little ot tiie 
union of colors, or the doctrine of hghts and shadow s. Xev er- 
theicss, Fra ice is ndebted to hmn, for destroying the insipid 
and barbar )us mannei- that then re'gned, anil f(<r ijeginring 
to int oiluce a good gont 'I h • novelt\ of / o/zt/'s manner, 
and he k;nd reception he gave to all who came Vj liim, m.ide 
the Kre di painters, his ci'iitemporuries, lall into it ; and 
brought h m disciples from ail parts. Most ot the succeed, 
jng painters, wlio were fuuious, were bred up un^ier Imu ; as 
Lt h'rioiy Pet)ki\, Mignuid, Lc Sueur, Dorigiiy, J)u Fifsp.oy, 
and otiiers, \\hom he emploved as assistants: for it would be 
wondertui to retu ct, a pr -vtigicus number ot pictures 
he coiiip.eted, if it was not remembered, thai he had m.nv 
disc pies, whom he trained to his manner, and u ho executed 
his de^ gns. He iia I the honor also to instruct tlie king him- 
self in t,ie art oi des giiin^. 

He (.lied, rather worn out with labor than years, in 1641, 
aged 5 h*. Jh/ient/y wiio was his son-in law, as well as his 
pujjil, engraved the gre-.ter part of his wo ks. He had a 
brother, whose was .lubm I'ouct, who painted aftirhis 
manner, and was a tolerable pertornier. 



David Tenters, aFlemisli piiinter, ivus bc.rn at Antwerp, 
in 1582, and received t!ie litst rudiiDeiits of liisart from tlie fa- 
mous Rubens^ who considered liini, at ient;tli, as h.s most de- 
serving scholar. (>n ieav x\^Iiubcus,\\(.' be;iHn lo be much em- 
ployed, and in a Httk t me, went to It.ilv. \t Rome he fixed 
liimseif with Jc/ain J-.lshtimrr, who ^asthen in great vogue; 
of wiiose manner he became a thoronoh iii.ister, witliout nog- 
iecting at the same time t le stuiiv of other great masters, and 
endeavoring to penetrate into tiie deepest m\'steries of their 
T)ractice. An abode of ten years ;n Italy en.ibied him to be- 
come one of the first rn his stvie of p.iintirig ; and a i)i.ppy 
un on of the schools of Nuhns and Klahclmci formed m him 
a maimer as agreeable as d vertmg. \V hen Toners returned 
to his own ccmntrv, he entirely emploved ])mself in painting 
siPall pictures, filled with figures of j)ersons drinking, chemists, 
iairs, and n.erry makings, \\ tii a niunher of cotmtr\inen and 
Avomen. lie spread so much ta.ste anti truth throtigh his pic- 
tures, that nature hardly produced a ju-^ter eifect. j he de- 
mand for them was univer.-.a: ; and even his master Rubens 
thought them an ornament to his cabinet, which was as high a 
compliment as could be paid t tern. TeuLrs drew his own 
character in his pcturcs, and in all his subjects every tiling 
tends to joy and plea ure. He was aiwMys cmpio\ed in copy- 
ing after nature,. \ a. tsocver presented it.iell ; and he accustom- 
ed his two so 15 to follow his example, and to paint nothing 
but from that mfaliibiemodei, by wh !ch me., ns they both became 
excel ient planters. 'Thest> ii re the only di.-ci pies we knowof y>?ff- 
via 'i>/«'c)5 the elder, who died at Antwerp in 1649, aged 67. 
D'jv'nl Teniers, his son, was l>orn at /sutwerp in 1610, and 
\> as nick-named " The Ape of F*ainting ;" for there was no 
uijtner of pa nting but what he im tatecl so exactly, as to de- 
<;eive even the nicest judges. He im]>roved greatly on the 
talents^and merit of his fatlier, and h.s reputation introduced 
liim to tUe fa\or t t e great. ! he arciKiukeZeo/?o/(/ JViUiam 
made hiifi geutieman ut his bed-chamber ; and all the pictures 
of his gallery u ere cooieil bv I (.int. s, and engraved by his di- 
rection. 'J rniers t;;< k a voyagv* lo hngiand, to buy several 
]/Ktures of the great Ilaiian masters tor Count Fuensaldegnay 
w lo, ou his return, tieaped favors on him, Don John of 
Austria, and the king of Spain, set so great a value on hispic- 
fure-., tfiat they built --• gallery on purpose lor them. Prince 
l\'il:.>.i>n of Orange hoiiOied him with his jnendship; Rubens 



•steemcd his works,and assisted him with his advice. His prin- 
cipal talent was landscape, adorned with small figures. He 
painted men drinking and smoaking, chemists, elaboratories, 
country fairs, and the like : his small figures are superior to 
his large ones. 'I^he distinction between the works of the fa- 
ther and the son is, that in the son's we discover a iiner touch 
and a fresher pencil, a greater choice of attitudes, and a better 
disposition of figures. The f<ither retained something of the 
tone of Italy in his coloring, which was stronger than the son's, 
but bis pictures have les.> harmony and union : besifles, the 
son used to put at the bottom of his pictures, *' David Tenitrs, 
junior." He died at Antwerp in 1694, aged 81. 

His brother Abraham was a good painter ; equal, if not su- 
perior, to his father and brother in expression of character, 
and knowledge of the chiaro-obscuro, though inferior in the 
■sprightliness of his touch, and the lightness of his pencil. 

Peter vak Laer, commonly called Bamboccio, (on ac- 
count of his disagreeable figure, with long legs, a short body, 
and his head sunk down on his shoulders) was born in the city 
oi Haerkmy A. D. l^Si : and after he had laid a good founda- 
tion in drawing and perspective at home, went to France, and 
from thence to Rome ; where by earnest application to study, 
for sixteen years together, he arrived to great perfection in 
histories, landscapes, grottos, huntings, &c. with little figures, 
and animals. He had an admirable gusto in coloring, was 
very judicious in the ordering of his pieces, nicely just in his 
proportions ; and only to be blamed for aftecting to represent 
nature in her worst dress, and following the life too close, in 
most of his compositions. He returned to Amsterdam, A. D. 
1639 : and after a short stay there, sjxint the remainder of ins 
days with his brother, a noted schoolmaster, in Haerlem. He 
was a person very serious and contemplative in his humor ; 
took pleasure in nothing but Painting and Music : and by in- 
dulging himself too much in a melancholy retirement, is said 
to have shortened his life, A.D. 1644, aged 60. 

DoMENico Fe TTI, an eminent painter, was born at Rome 
in l.">89, and educated under Ludovico Civoli, a famous Flo- 
rentine painter. As soon as he quitted the school of Civoli\ 
he went to Mantua, where the paintings oi' Julio Jio)iiam) ni- 
forded him the means of becoming a great painter. Froni 
them he took his coloring, the boldness of his characters, and 

a bean- 


a beautiful manner of thinking: and it were to be wished, 
that he had copied the correctness of that master. Cardinal 
Ferdinand Goizaga^ afterwards duke of Mantua, discovered 
the merit of /t'///, retained him at his court, furnislied him 
with means of continuing his studies, and at last emploj'cd 
liim in adorning his palace. FlIU painted with great force, 
but sometimes too darkly; was delicate in his thoughts ; had 
a grandeur of expression, and a mellowness of pencil, that re* 
Jished with the connoisseurs. His pictures are scarce, and 
much sought afier. He painted ver\' little for churches. Going 
to Venice, he abaiuloned himself to disorderly courses, which, 
breaking his constitution, put an end to his life in its verv 
prime; for he was only m his 35th year. The duke of Mantua 
regretted him exceedingly, and sent for his father and sister, 
whom he took care of afterwards. The sister painted well. 
She became a nun, and exercised her talent in the convent, 
which she adorned with several of her works. Other religi- 
ous houses in Mantua \\ ere also decorated with her paintings, 

Cornelius Poelenburgh, born at Utrecht, A.D. 1590, 
was a disciple of Abraham Blocmaert, and afterwards, for a 
long time, a student in Rome and Florence. His talent lay 
altogether in small figures, naked boys, landscapes, ruins, &c. 
which he expressed with a pencil very agreeable, as to the 
coloring part: but generally attended with a little stiffness, 
the (almost inseparable) companion of much labor and neat- 
ness. However, BubenswaLS so well pleased with his pictures, 
that he desired Sandrart to buy some of them for him. He 
came over into England, A.D. 1637 ; and after he had con- 
tinued here four years, and been handsomely rewarded byKing 
Charles I. for several pieces, which he wrought for him, re- 
turned into his own country, and died A.D. 1667, aged 77. 

CavalierGio. Francesco BARBiERiDACENTOjCommonly 
called Cr^tTfAi'/zo, (because of a cast in one of his eyes)was born 
near Bologna, A.D. 1690, and bred up under Benedetto Gen- 
nari his country-man: by whose instructions, and his own 
excellent genius, he soon learned to design gracefully, and with 
correctness ; and by conversing afterwards with the works of 
Michael Angela da (Mravaggio^a-nd the Caracci, hecdine an ad- 
mirable colorist, and besides, very famous for his happy inven- 
tion, and freedom of pencil; and for the strength, relievo, and 
■>econ)ing boldness of his figures. He began in the declensiou 



his age, to alter his style of paiiitmjx ; aiul to jjlease the un- 
thinking multitude, rather than himself, took ujianot'ier man- 
ner, more «rav, neat, and pleasant ; hnt by no means so tirand 
and so natural as his lormor gu^to. He was sent for to Rome, 
by pope (rvi'iiori) XV and alter two years spent there, with 
universal applause, retinned home ; and could not be drawn 
from tlience, by the most powerful invitat ons either of the 
king of England or the French kmg. Nor coidd Christiana^ 
queen of 8v\edc'i, prevail with him to leave Piologna ; though 
in lier passage through it, siie made him a visit and would not 
be satisfied, till she had taken him by the hand, " I hat 
*' hand (said she) that had j^ainted 106 altnr-pieees, !4i pic- 
** tares for people of the first (jualitv in 1- urope : and besides, 
'* had comj)osed ten books of designs." He received the 
honor of knighthood frou) the tiuke of Mwtua; and for his 
cxcmphiry pi«ty, prudence, s.\\(.\ morality, was every whiMV 
as much esteemed as for his knowledge in ])ainting. He died 
a. batchelor, A.D. 16()6, aged 76, verv rich, notwithstanding 
the great snn)s of m(>nev he hati expended, in building 
chapels, founding hospitals, and other acts of charits'. 

Nicholas Poussin, an eminent Fiench painter, w.;S born 
at Andelis, a citv in Normand\-, 1594. His family was origi- 
nally of Soissons; in which citvtliere were some of his relations 
officers in the Presidial court John Poussin, his father, was 
of noble extraction, but a very small estate. His son, seeing 
the narrowness of his circumstances, determined to establ.sli 
himself as soon as possible, atid chose painting for his pro- 
fession, having natiirallv a strong inclination to that art. At 
eighteen, he wttnX. to Paris, to learn the rudiments of it; but he 
i>aw he should never learn an}' thing from the Parisian mtisters, 
and he resolved not to lose his time with them; believing he 
should profit moiii by studying the works of great masters, 
than by the discipline of ordinar\' painters. He worked a 
while in distemper, and with extraordinary facilitv. The 
cavalier Muri}io being at that time in Paris, and knowing 
1*011 ss in s <rtiu\{]v, was al)ove the small performances he was em- 
]iloyed in, persuaded him to go in his company lo Italv ; J^oi/s- 
sin had before made two attempts to undertake that journey, 
yet by some means or other he was hindred from accepting 
the advantage of this opportunity. He promised to follow 
in a short time; and set out tor Home in hij thirtieth 3"ear. 



He there met with his friend the Cavalier Marino, who to be 
as serviceable as he coulH, recommended him to Cardinal Bar" 
bcrmi, who desired to be acquainted with him. Nevertheless he 
did not emerge, and could scarcely maintain himself. He was 
forced to give away his works for so little, as would hardly pay 
for colors: however, his courage did not fail him ; he minded 
his studies assiduously, resolving to make himself master of his 
profession; he had little money to spend, and therefore the 
more leisure to retire by himself, and study the beautiful things 
in Romcj as well the antiquities, as the works of the famous 
Roman painters. It is said, he at first copied some of Titian's 
pieces; with whose coloring, and the touches of whose land- 
scapes he was infinitely pleased. Indeed it is observable, that 
his first pieces are painted with a better gusto of colors than 
his last. But he soon shewed by hisperformances,that generally 
speaking, he did not much value coloring ; or thought he knew 
enough of it,to make his pictures as perfect as he intended. He 
had studied the beauties of the antique, the elegance, the 
grand gusto, the correctness, the variety of proportions, the 
adjustments, the orderof thedraperies, the nobleness, the fine 
air and boldness of the heads; the manners, customs of times, 
and places, and every thing that was beautiful in the remains 
of ancient sculpture, and with great exactness he has enrich- 
ed his paintings in all those particulars. 

He used frequently to examine the ancient sculptures in the 
vineyards about Rome, and this confirmed him more in the love 
of those antiquities. He would spend days in making reflec- 
tions upon them by himself. In these retirements he considered 
the extraordinary effects of nature in landscape, he designed 
his animals, his distances, his trees, and everything excellent 
that was agreeable to his gusto. Poussin also made curious ob- 
servations on the works of Raffaelle if Domenichinoi who of all 
painters,inhis opinion,invented best, designed most correctly, 
andexpressedthe passions most vigorously : three thingswhich 
Poussin esteemed the most essential parts of painting. He 
neglected nothing that could render his knowledge in these 
three parts perfect : he was altogether as curious about the 
general expression of his subjects, which he adorned Avith 
every thing that he thought would excite the attention of the 
learned. He left no large compositions behind him, having 

Vol. IV. Opart 2. had 


had no opportunity to do them, painting; wholly easel pieces, 
adapted to a cabinet, such as the curious required of him. 

Louis XIII. and DeNoyers, Minister of State and Superin- 
tendant of the Buildings, wrote to him at Rome to return to 
France: he consented with great reluctance. He had a pension 
assigned him, and a lodging furnished at the Thuilleries. He 
painted *' the Lord's Supper," for the Chapel of the Chateau 
of St. GermainSy and that which is in the Jusuit's noviciate at 
Paris. He began " the labors of Hercules''' in the gallery of the 
Lbuvre : but Foiiet''s school railing at him and his works, put 
him out of humour with his own countr3\ He was also weary 
of the tumultuous vray of living at Paris, wdiich never agreed 
with him ; he therefore secretly resolved to return to Rome, 
pretending he went to settle his domestic affairs and fetch his 
wife: but when he got there, whether or no he found himself 
as in his center, or was deterred from returning to France by 
the deaths of Richlieu and of the Kingy which happened 
about that time, he never left Italy afterwards. He continued 
working on easel-pieces, and sent them from Rome to Paris ; 
the French buying them every where as fast as they could 
procure them, valuing his productions as much as those of 

Poussin having lived happily tohis 71st year, died paralytic 
in 1665. He married Gaspafs sister, by whom he had no chil- 
rcn. His estate amounted to no more than 60,000 livres ; but 
he valued ease above riches, and preferred his abode at Rome, 
Avhere he lived without ambition, to making his fortune else- 
where. He never disputed about the price of his pictures ; 
he put down his charge at the back of the canvas, and it was 
always given him. He had no disciple Bishop Massini, who 
was afterwards a Cardinal, staying once on a visit to him 
til! it was dark, Poussin took the candle in his hand, lighted 
him down stairs, and waited upon him to his coach. The 
Prelate was sorry to see him do it himself, and could not help 
saying, '* I very much pity you Monsieur Poussin^ that you 
*' have not one servant." And I pity you more, my Lord," 
replied Poussin^ *' that you have so many." 

PiETRo BERETTtNi of Cortoua, in Tuscany, was born A. D. 
I596,broughtupinthehouse o^ Saclietti,\u Romc,and a disciple 
of Baccio Ciarpi. He was universally applauded for the vast 



extent of his genius, the vivacityof his imagination, and an in- 
credible facility in the execution of his works. His talent lay 
in treating grand subjects; and though he was incorrect in his 
design, and expression, and irregular in his draperies, yet 
those defects were so happily atoned by the magnificence of 
his compositions, the fine airs of his figures, the nobleness of 
his decorations, and the surprising beauty and gracefulness of 
the whole, that he is allowed to be the most agreeable man- 
nerist any age has produced. He practised both in fresco and 
oil; but he chiefly excelled in the first. His principal perfor- 
mances are on the ceilings and walls of the Churches and Pa- 
laces of Rome and Florence. For those few designs that 
adorn the cabinets of the curious, we are indebted to his ill 
state of health, as he hardly ever made an easel-piece, ex- 
cept when a fit of the gout confined him to his chamber. He 
was handsome in his person ; and to his extraordinary quali- 
ties in painting, joined those of a perfectly honest man. He 
was in great esteem with Pope Urban VIII. Innocent X. and 
most of the persons of high i*ank in Italy, for his ccnsunmiate 
skill in architecture, as well as for his pencil ; and having re- 
ceived the honor of knighthood from Pope Alexander VII. 
he died A.D. 1669, aged 73. 

Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, born 1598, at once acapital 
Sculptor and Architect, was son of a Painter and Sculptor of 
France who settled at Rome. At the age of 10 years he made 
a head in marble which was much admired, and was distin- 
guished by Pope PaulY. At 17 he executed the admired 
Daphne in the Villa Pinciana. Gregory XV. made him a 
Knight of the Order of Christ. After performing many ca- 
pital works in Rome he was invited by Louis XIV. to come to 
Paris, to which, after some difficulty, Bernini agreed, being 
then 68 years of age. He made several busts and statues of 
the King, and other ornaments for Versailles^ but afterwards 
returned to Rome, where he died, 1680, aged 82. He was a 
great machinist at the Theatre, in whose diversions he took 
delight. The list of his works is very extensive. 

Sir Anthony van Dyke, was born at Antwerp in 1599, 
and educated by the illustrious Riibeiis. He gave early proofs 
of excellent endowments ; and while he hvedwith his master, 
an affair happened, which may properly be called the foun- 
dation of his reputation. Rubens having left a picture unfi- 

O 2 nished 


Hashed one night, and going out contrary to custom, his scho- 
lars took the opportunity of sporting about the room ; when 
one, striking at his companion with a maul-stick, chanced to 
throw down the picture, which not being dry was consider- 
ably damaged. Van Dyke, being at work in the next room, 
was prevailed on to repair the mischief. When Rubens came 
next morning to his work, first going at a distance to view 
his picture, as is usual wnth painters, and having contemplated 
it a little, he cried out suddenly, that he liked the piece bet- 
ter than he did the night before ! While he lived with Rubens~, 
he painted a great number of portraits, and among the rest 
that of his master's wife, which was esteemed long after as one 
of the best pictures in the Low Countries. Afterwards he went 
to Italy, stayed a short time at Rame, and removed toVenice; 
■where he attained the beautiful colouring of Titian^ Paul Ve- 
lonese, and the Venetian school ; proofs of which appeared in 
his pictures at Genoa, where he left behind him many excel- 
lent pieces. After a few years spent abroad, he returned to 
Flanders, with amannerof painting so noble, natural, and easy, 
that Titian himself was hardly his superior; and no other mas- 
ter in the world equalled him in portraits. At home he painted 
several iiistorical pieces, that rendered his name famous all 
over Europe ; but believing he should be more employed in 
the courts of foreign princes, if he applied himself to painting 
after the lifcj he resolved at last to make it his chief business : 
knowing it to be, not only the most acceptible, but the most 
advantageous part of his profession. Besides, he was willing 
perhaps to signalize himself by a talent, with which nature 
hiid particularly favored him ; though some have said, that it 
was his master Rubms, who diverted him from history-painting 
to portraits, out of a fear that he should become as universal 
as himself. The prince of Orange, hearing of his fame, sent 
for him to draw the pictures of his princess and children. Car- 
dinal Richelieu invited him to France ; where not liking his 
entertainment, he stayed but a little time. Then he came to 
Xnt^land, soon after ^M^t'/w had left it, and was entertainecj 
in the service of Charles I. who conceived a great esteem for 
his works ; honoured him with Knighthood; presented him 
with his own picture, set round with diamonds ; assigned him 
a considerable pension ; sat very often to him for his portrait; 
and was imitated by most of the nobility and gentry of the 



ikingdom. He dki a very great number of portraits, about 
which he took much care at first ; but at last painted them 
very shghtly. A friend asking him the reason of this, he re- 
plied, *' I have worked a long time for reputation, and I now 
work for my kitchen." 

He was a person of low stature, but well proportioned ;tery 
handsome, modest, and obliging ; a great e«courager of such 
as excelled in art or science, most of whose pictures he drew; 
and generous to the last degree. He acquired great riches ; 
married one of the fairest ladies of the English court, a daugh-- 
ter of the Lord Ruthven Earl oiGowrie ; who, though she had 
little except her beauty and her quality, lived in a state and 
grandeur answerable to her birth. His own dress was gene- 
rally rich, bis equipage magnificent, his retinue numerous, 
his table splendid, and so much frequented by persons of qua- 
lity of both sexes, that his apartments seemed rather the court 
©fa prince, than the lodgings of a painter. He grew weary, 
toward the end of his life, of the trouble that attended face- 
painting ; and, being desirous of immortalizing his name by 
some more glorious undertaking, went to Paris, in hopes of 
being employed in the Gallery of the Louvre. Not succeed- 
ing there, he returned to England ; and proposed to the 
King, hy'^ixKenebiiDigby^ to make Cartobrrsfor the Ban- 
quetting-house at Whitehall. The subject was td have been 
the Institution of the Order of the Garter, the Procession, of 
the Knights in their habits, with the ceremony of their Install- 
ment, and St. George's feast: but his demand of 80,000l. being 
thought unreasonable, while the King was treating with him 
for a less sum, the gout and other distempers put an end to 
his life. He died in 1641, aged 42 ; and was buried in St. 
FauTsy where his monument perished by the fire, in 1666. 

Gio. Benedetto Castiglione, a Genoese, at first a disci- 
ple oi Bapiista Faggi a.nd Ferrari^ his countrymen, improved 
himself afterwards by the instructions of Fa7i Dyke, as long as 
he continued at Genoa, and at last became an imitator of the 
manner of Nicolo Foussin. He is commended for several prints 
of his own etching ; but in painting his inclinations led him to 
figures, with landscapes and animals, which he touched with a 
great deal of life and spirit, and was particularly remarkable 
for a brisk pencil, and a free handling in all his compositions. 
He was a person very unsettled in his temper, and never loved 



to stay longr in a place, but being continually upon the ram- 
ble, Jiis works lie scattered in Genoa, Rome, Naples, Venice, 
Parma, and Mantua, at which last place he died. 

James Jordaens, an eminent Painter of the Flemisli 
school, was born at Antwerp in 1593. He learned the princi- 
ples of his art in that city, from Adam Van Ort; to whose in- 
structions, however, he did not entirely confine himself, but 
applied to other masters there, whose works he examined 
very carefully. He added to this the study of nature from the 
originals, struck out a manner entirely his own, and by that 
means became one of the most able painters in the Nether- 
lands. He wanted nothing but the advantage of seeing Italy, 
as he himself testified, by the esteem he had for the Italian 
masters,- and by the avidity with which he copied the works 
of Titian, Paul Veronese^ the Bassans, and the Caravagios, 
whenever he met with any of them. What hindered him from 
making the tour of Italy, Avas his marriage, which he entered 
into very young, with the daughter of Fan Ort, his master. 
Jordaens^ genius lay in the grand gusto in large pieces, and 
his manner was strong, true, and sweet. He improved most 
under RubenSy for whom he worked, and from whom he drew 
his best principles ; insomuch, that it is said, this great mas- 
ter being apprehensive lest Jordaens would eclipse him in co- 
loring, employed him a long time to draw, in distemper or 
water- colors, those grand designs in a suite of hangings for the 
Kmg of Spain, after the sketches which i?i^^^;25 had done in 
proper colors; and by this long restraint, he enfeebled that 
strength and force, in which Jordaens represented truth and 
nature so strikingly. Our excellent artist finished several 
pieces for the city of Antwerp, and others in Flandei-s. He 
■worked also for both their Majesties of Sweden and Denmark. 
In a word he was indefatigable; and after he had worked with- 
out intermission all day, used to recruit his spirits among his 
friends in the evening. He was an excellent companion, 
being of achearful and pleasant humor. He lived to about 
84, and died at Antwerp in 1678. 

ViviANO CoDAzzo, generally called Viviano dalle Pro- 
SPETTIVE, was born at Bergamo, in the Venetian territories, 
A.D. 1559, and by the instructions oi Jugiislino Tasso, his 
master, arrived to a most excellent manner of painting build- 


ings, ruins, &c. His ordinary residence was at Rome, where 
he died, A.D. 1674, aged 15, and was buried in the church 
of St. Lorenzo in Lucina. He had a son called Nicold, whq 
pursued his father's steps, and died at Genoa, in great repu- 
tation for his performances in perspective. 

Mario Nuzzr, commonly called Mario da Fiori, born 
at Orta in the Terra di Sabina, was a disciple of his uncle 
^jToynaso Saliniy and one of the most famous masters in his 
time for painting flowers. He died at Rome, where he had 
spent a great part of his life, and was also buried at St. Lqt 
renzo's church, A.D. 1672, aged 73. 

Michael Angelo Cerquozzi, was born in Rome, A.D. 
1600, and bred up in the school oi Antonio Salvatti, a Bolog- 
nese. He was called dalle Battaglie, from his excellent talent 
in battles ; but besides his great skill in that particular subject, 
he was very successful in all sorts of figures, and painted fruit 
incomparably beyond any master of his time. He was buried 
in the choir of St. Manf^ church, Rome, A.D. 1660, aged 60. 

Gille, commonly calledCLAUDE, of Lorraine, a celebrated 
landscape painter, was born in 1600, and sent first to school ; 
but proving extremely dull and heavy, was soon taken from 
thence, and bound apprentice to a pastry-cook, with whom he 
served his time out. Afterwards he went with some young fel- 
lows to Rome, with a view of getting his livelihood there ; but 
being unable to speak the language, and very ill-br9d, nobody 
cared to set him to work. Chance brought him at length to 
Augustino TassOy who hired him to grind his colors, clean liis 
pallet and pencils, look after his house, dress his meat for him, 
and do all his houshold drudgery ; for Augustino kept no other 
servant. His master hoping to make him serviceable to him 
in some of his works, taught him by degrees the rules of per- 
spective and the elements of design. Claude at first did not 
know what to make of these principles of art ; but being en- 
couraged, and not deficient in application, he came at length 
to understand them. Then his mind enlarged apace, and he 
cultivated the art with wonderful eagerness. He removed his 
study to the banks of the Tiber, in the open fields, where he 
would continue from morning to night, taking all his lessons 
from nature herself; and by many years' diligent imitation of 
that excellent mistress, he arrived at the highest step of per- 


fection in landscape painting. Sandrart relates, that being iit 
the fields with him, for the sake of stud3'ing together, Claude 
made him observe, with as much nicety as if he had been well 
versed in physics, the causes of the diversity of the same view 
or prospect; and explained why it appeared sometimes after 
one fashion and sometimes after another, with respect to co- 
lors, as the morning dew or evening vapours more or less pre- 
vailed. His memory was so good, that he would paint with 
great faithfulness when he got home, what he had seen abroad. 
He was so absorbed in his labors that he never visited anybody. 
The study of his profession was his amusement, and by mere 
dint of cultivating his talent, he produced pictures which made 
his name deservedly famous throughout Europe, in that part of 
painting to which he applied. He has been universally admir- 
ed for his pleasing and very agreeable invention ; for the deli- 
cacy of his coloring, and the charming variety and tenderness 
of his tints ; for his artful distributition of lights and shadows, 
for his wonderful conduct in the disposition of his figures, and 
for the advantage and harmony of his compositions. Claude 
may be produced as an instance to prove, that constant and as- 
siduous application will even supply the want of genius ; or, if 
this will not be allowed, will draw genius into view, where no- 
body suspected any genius was. This industry however he was 
always obliged to exert, for he never performed without diffi- 
culty ; and, when his performance did not come up to his idea, 
he would sometimes do and undo the same piece seven or eight 
times over. He was much commended for several of his per- 
formances in fresco, as well as oil. He was employed by Pope 
Urban Vlll. and many of the Italian Princes, in adorning their 
palaces. He died in 1682, and was buried at Rome. 

Caspar Dughet, was of French extraction, but born in 
Rome, A. D. 1600. He assumed the name of Pow^^m, in gra- 
titude for many favors (and particularly that of his education) 
which he received from Nicola Poussitiy who married his sister. 
fiis first employment under his brother-in-law, was in looking 
after his colors, pencils, &c. but his excellent genius for paint- 
ing soon discovering itself, by his own industry, and his bro- 
ther's instructions, it was so well improved, that in landscape 
(which he principally studied) he became one of the greatest 
lEnasters of his age ; and was in request for his easy invention, 



solid judgment, regular disposition, and very exact resem- 
blance of nature, in all his works. He died 1663, and was bu- 
ried in his parish-church of Santa Susanna^ in Rome, aged 63. 

Andrea Sacchi, born in Rome, A.D. 1601, was the son of 
apainter : but under the conduct of cavalier Gioseppiiio (a mas- 
ter of greater fame) by incredible diligence he made such ad- 
vances, that before he was twelve j'ears of iige, he carried the 
prize, in the academy of St. Luke.^ from all his (much older) 
competitors. With this badge of honor, they gave him the 
nick-name oi Andreuccio, to denote the diminutive figure he 
then made, being a boy. And though he grew up to be a tali, 
graceful, and well proportioned man, yet he still retained the 
name (Littlt Andrew) almost to the day of his death. His ap- 
plication to the chiaro-oscuros oi Folydore^ to the paintings of 
Raffaelle^ and to the antique marbles; together with his studies 
under Albania and his copies after Correggio, and others, the 
best Lombard masters, were the several steps by which he rais- 
ed himself to exalted perfection in historical compositions. 
The first three gave him his correctness, and elegance of de- 
sign, and the last made him the best colorist of all the Roman 
school. His works are not very numerous, by reason of the 
infirmities that attended him in his latter years ; and more es- 
pecially the gout, which often confined him to his bed for se- 
veral months together. And besides, he was at all times very 
slow in his performances ; because he never did any thing (he 
said) but what he proposed should be seen by Ruffadle and 
Hannibal y which laid a restraint upon his hand, and made him 
proceed with the utmost precaution. His first patrons were 
the cardinals Antonio Barberini^ and del Monte, the protector 
of the Academy ofPamting. He became afterwards a great fa- 
vorite of Pope Urban Vlll. and drew a picture of him, which 
(with some other things, he painted after the life) may stand in 
competition with whatever has been done by the most renown- 
ed for portraits. He was a person of noble appearance, grave, 
prudent, and in conversation very entertauiing. He was, 
moreover, an excellent Architect, and for many other rare 
qualities died much lamented, A. D. 1661, aged 60. 

Philip de Champagne, a celebrated painter^ was born at 
Brussels in 1602. He discovered an inclination to painting 
from his youth. Excepting that he learnt landscape fromFou- 

V«l. IV. P part 2. quiere 


quiere, in all branches of his art nature was his master. At 19 
years of age, he set oif for Italy, taking p'rance in his way, but 
proceeded no farther than Paris. He lodged there in the Col- 
lege of Laon, where Poussin also dwelt ; and these two paint- 
ers became very good friends. I)u Chesne, painter to Mary of 
Medicis, was employed about the paintings in the palace of the 
Luxemburg, and set Poussin and Champagne to work under 
him. Poussin did a few small pieces it* the ceiling, and Cham- 
pagne drew some small pictures in the queen's apartment. 
Her majesty liked them so well, that Du Chesne grew jealous 
of him ; upon which Chaynpagne, who loved peace, returned 
to Brussels, with an interrt to go through Germany into Italy. 
He was scarcely got there, when a letter came to him from the 
Abbot of St. ylmbmse, who was Surveyor of the buildings, to 
to advertise him of J)u Chesnt^sdedth^ and to invite him back 
to Fi-ancc. He accordingly returned thither, and was presrcn- 
ly made Director of the Queen's paintings, who settled on 
himayearly pension of 1200 livrcs, and allowed him lodgings 
in the palace of the Luxemburg. Being a lover of his busi- 
ness, he went through a great deal of it. The best of bis 
works is thought to be \\\s plat fond ., or ceiling, in the King's 
Apartment at Vincennes, made on the subject of the peace in 
1659. After this he was made Rector of the Royal Academy 
of Painting, which office he exercised many years. 

He had been a long while famous in his profession, when Le 
Brun arrived at Paris from Italy ; and though Le Brun was 
soon at the head of the art, and made principal painter to the 
King, he shewed no disgust at a preference that Avas his detri- 
ment and loss. 1 here is another instance upon record oi Cham- 
pagne's goodness of disposition and integrity. Cardinal Rich- 
lieu had offered to make his fortune, if he would quit the 
queen-mother's service; but Chanipagne refused. The Cardi- 
nal's valet de chambre assured him farther, that whatever he 
would ask, his Eminency Avould grant him: to which Cham- 
pagne replied, "if the Cardinal could make me a better pain- 
" ter, the only thing I am ambitious of, it would be some- 
" thing; but since that is impossible, the only honour I 
"beg of his Eminency is the continuance of his good 
"graces." It is said, the Cardinal was much affected with the 
integrity of the painter ; Avho though he refused to enter into 
his service, did not however refuse to work for him. Among 



Other things he drew his picture, and it is supposed to be 
one of the best piecfes he ever painted. 

Champagne died in 1674, having been much beloved by all 
that knew him, both as a good painter and a good man. He 
had a son and two daughters by his wife the daughter of Du 
ChesiiCy whom he married after her father's death: but two of 
these children dying before him, and the third retiring to a 
nunnery, for she was a daughter, he left his substance to John 
Baptiste ie Champagne^ his nephew. John Baptiste was also 
born at Brussels, and bred up in the profession of painting un- 
der his uncle, whose manner and gusto he always followed : he 
spent 15 months in Italy. He lived in the most friendlyand af- 
fectionate manner with his uncle, and died Professor of the 
Academy of Painting at Paris, in 1688, aged 42 years. 

PadreGiacomoCortesi, commonly called, //5o;'^o^no7ze, 
from the country where he was born, about the year 1605, 
was highly applauded for his admirable gusto, and grand man- 
ner of painting battles. He had for sev^eral years been con- 
versant in military affairs, was a considerable officer in the 
army, made the camp hisschool,and formed all his excellent 
ideas from what he had seen performed in the field. His style 
was roughly noble, and soldier like, full of fire and spirit; as 
is sufficiently evident even in the few prints which he etched. 
He retired, towards the latter end of his life, into the Con- 
vent of the Jesuits, in Rome ; where he was forced to take 
sanctuary, they say, to rid his hands of an ill bargin he had 
got in a wife : but happily surviving her, he lived till after 
the year 1 675, in great esteem and honor. 

GuLiELMO CoRTEsi, his brother, was also a painter of 
note : and having been bred up in the school oi Peter Cortona^ 
shewed how well he had spent his time there, by his perform- 
ances in several of the Churches and Palaces of Rome. 

Rembrandt van Rhyn, a Flemish painter of great emi- 
nence, was the son of a miller, and born near Leyden in 1 606. 
He is one of those who owed all his skill in his profession to the 
strength of his own genius ; for the advantages of education 
were few or none to him. His turn lay so powerfully towards 
painting, that he seems to bavebeen incapable of learning any 
thing else ; and it is said, that he could scarcely read. We 
must not therefore expect to find correctness of design, or a 

P 2 gusto 


gusto of the antique, in the works of this painter. He had old 
pieces of armour, old instruments, old head-dresses, and abun- 
dance of old stuff of various sorts, hanging up in his work- 
room, which he said were his antiques. His sole aim was to 
imitate living nature, such as it appeared to him; and as the 
living nature, which he had continually before his eyes, was 
of the heavy kind, it is no wonder, that he should imbibe, as 
he did, the bad taste of his country. Nevertheless, he formed 
a manner entirely new and peculiar to himself; and drew 
abundance of portraits with wonderful strength, sweetness, 
and verisimilitude. Even in his etching, which was dark, and 
as particular as his style in painting, every individual stroke 
did its part, and expressed the very flesh, as well as the spirit, 
of the persons it represented. The union and harmony in all 
his compositions are such as are rarely to be found in other 
masters. He understood the claro obscqro in the highest 
degree : his local colors are a help to each other, and appear 
best by comparison ; and his carnations are as true, as fresh, 
and as perfect as Tiiiuii's. 

He prepared his ground with a lay of such friendly colors 
as united and came nearest to the life ; upon this he touched 
in his virgin tints (each in its proper place) rough, and as lit- 
tle disturbed by the pencil as possible; and with great masses 
of lights and shadows rounding off hi? figures, gave them a 
force and freshness that was very surprising. 

There was as great singularity in the behaviour of this man 
as in his taste and manner of painting; and he was an humorist 
of the first order, though a man of sense and a fine genius. He 
affected an old-fashioned slovenlydress,and loved mean and pi- 
tiful company, though he had property enough to keep the 
best. Some of his friends telling hirjiof it, he answered, "When 
" I have a mind to unbend and refresh my mind, I seek not 
honor so much as liberty ;" and this humour he indulged, till, 
as it usually happens, he reduced his fortunes to a level with 
the poorest of his companions. Having painted his maid-ser- 
vant's picture, he placed it at a window, and amused himself 
in answering the questions put to it by passengers, who mi*: 
took it for reality. He died in 1668, " for nothing more to be 
admired, than for having heaped up a noble treasure of Italian 
prints and drawings, and making no better use of them." 



GerardDou, born at Leyden, was a disciple oiRembrajidty 
but much more pleasant in liis style of painting, and superior 
to him in small figures. He was esteemed in Holland a great 
master in his way; and though we must not expect to find in 
his works that elevation of thought, that correctness of design, 
or that noble spirit, nnd grand gusto, in which the Italians 
have distinguished themselves from the rest of mankind, yet 
it must be acknowledged, that he was a careful and just imi- 
tator of life, exceedingly happy in the management of his 
pencil, and in finishing his pieces curious and patient beyond 
example. He died about the year 1674, leaving behind him 
many scholars, of whom 

Francis Mieris, the chief, pursued his master's steps very 
closely , and in time surpassed him : being more correct in his out- 
line, more bright in his coloring, and more graceful in his com- 
position. Wonderful things were expected from his promising 
genius; but intemperance, and a thoughtless, random way of 
living, cut him off, in the very flower of his age, A.D. 1683. 

GoDFRicus ScHALCKEN, in small night-pieces, and repre- 
sentations of low-life, by candle-light, out did all the mas- 
ters that had gone before him. He was of that school. 

John Petitot, was born at Geneva in 1607; his father 
was a Sculptor and Architect, who after having passed part 
of his life in Italy, retired into that city. His son was in- 
tended to be a jeweller; and by frequent employment in 
enamelling, acquired so fine a taste, and so precious a tone 
of coloring, that Bordier, afterwards his brother-in-law, ad- 
vised him to attach himself to portraits, believing he might 
push his art to greater lengths ; and though they both wanted 
several colors which they could not bring to bear the fire, yet 
they succeeded to admiration. Pf///o^ did the heads and hands, 
in which his coloring was excellent : Bordier painted the hair, 
the draperies, and the grounds. These two friends, agreeing 
in their work and their projects, set out for Italy. The long 
stay they made there, frequenting the best chemists, joined 
to a strong desire of learninp-, improved them in the prepa- 
ration of their colors ; but the completion of their success must 
be ascribed to a journey they afterwards made to England : 
where they found Sir Theodore Mayerne^ physician to Charles 
I. and a great chemist ; who, by his experiments, had disco- 
vered the principal colors to be used for enamel, and the pro- 


per means of virtrifying them. 1 hesc surpassed in beauty all 
the enamelling of Venice and Limoges. Mayerne introduced 
Petitot to the King, who retained him in his service, and gave 
him a lodging in Whitehall. Here he painted several por- 
traits after Vandyke^ in which he was guided by that excel- 
lent master, who was then in London ;and his advice contri- 
buted to the ability of Petitot ^ whose best pieces are after 
Vandyke. K\ng Chailes often went to see him work; as he 
took pleasure both in painting and chemical experiments, to 
which his physician had given him a turn. Petitot painted that 
monarch and the whole royal family several times. The dis- 
tinguished favor shewn him by that prince was only interrupt- 
ed by his unhappy and tragical end: this was a terrible stroke 
to Petitot, who did not quit the royal family; but followed 
them in their flight to Paris, where he Avas looked on as one of 
tlieir most zealous servants. Charles II. after the battle of 
Worcester in 1651, went to France ; and during the four 
years that prince stayed there, he visited Petitot, and often 
eat with him. Now his name became eminent, and all the 
court of France were painted in enamel. When Charles II. re- 
turned, Lewis XIV. retained Petitot, gave him a pen- 
sion and a lodging in the Louvre. These new favors, added to 
a considerable fortune he had acquired, encouraged him to 
marry in 1661. Afterwards Bordierhecztne his brother-in-law, 
and ever remained in a firm union with him : they lived to- 
gether till their families growing too numerous obliged them 
to separate. Theirfriendship was founded on the harmony of 
their sentiments and their reciprocal merit, much more than 
on a principle of interest. They had gained, as a reward for 
their discoveries and their labors, a million of iivres, which 
tl)cy divided at Paris ; and they continued friends without 
having a quarrel, or even a misunderstanding, in fifty years. 
Petitot copied at Paris several portraits of Mignard and Lc 
Brun; yet his talent was not only copying a portrait with an 
exact resemblance, but also designing a head most perfectly 
after nature. To this he also joined a softness and liveliness of 
coloring, which will never change, and ever render his works 
valuable. He painted Lexis XIV. Mary Ann of Austria his 
mother, and Mary Theresa his wife, several times. As he was a 
zealous protestant, and full of apprehensions at the revocation 
ofthe edict of Nantz in 1685, he demanded the king's permis- 


sion to retire to Geneva ; who finding him urgent, and fear- 
ing he should escape, cruelly arrested him, and sent him to 
Fort I'Eveque, appointing the bishop of Meaux his instructor 
tjhere. Yet neither the eloquence of Bossuet, nor the terrors 
of a dungeon could prevail. He was not convinced, but the 
vexation and confinement threw him into a fever, of which 
the king being informed, ordered him to be i*eleased. He no 
sooner found himself at liberty, than he set off wuth his wife 
to Geneva, after a residence at Paris of thirty-six years. — 
His children remained in that city, and apprehending the 
king's resentment, threw themselves on his mercy, and piti- 
ously implored his royal protection. The king received them 
with favor, and told them he could forgive an old man the 
whim of desiring to be buried with his fathers. 

When Petitot returned to his own country, he cultivated 
his art with great ardor, and had the satisfaction of enjoying 
to the end of his life the esteem of connoisseurs. The king and 
queen of Poland wished to have their pictures copied by Pe- 
titotj though then above eighty. They gave him a hundred 
louis d'ors ; and he executed it as if he had been in the flower 
of his age. The concourse of his friends, and the resort of 
the curious to see him Avas so great, that he retired to Veray, 
a little town in Berne, where he worked in quiet. He was 
about the picture of his wife, when a distemper cai'ried him 
off in one day, 1691, aged 84. His life was always exem- 
plary, and his end was the same. He preserved his usual 
candor and ease of temper to his last hour. By his marriage 
he had seventeen children ; but only one of his sons applied 
himself to painting, and he settled in London. His father 
sent him several of his works, to serve him for models. His 
family is now settled in Dublin. 

Petitot may be called the inventor of painting in enamel ; 
though Bordier his brother-in-law, made several attempts be- 
fore him, and Sir 7^/^eoc?ore .^aj/ernff had facilitated the means 
of employing the most beautiful colors, it was Petitot who 
finished the work, which, under his hand, acquired such a 
degree of perfection, as to surpass miniature and even equal 
oil painting. He used gold and silver plates, rarely emamel- 
ling on copper. When he first came in vogue, his price was 
twenty louis a portrait, which he soon raised to forty. His 



custom was to carry a painter with him, who painted the 
picture in oil ; when Petitot sketched out his work, which he 
always finished after life. On painting the king of France, 
he took those pictures that most resembled him for his pat- 
terns; and the king afterwards ga^e him a sitting or two to 
complete his work. He labored with great assiduity, and 
never laid down his pencil but with reluctance ; saying, that 
he always found new beauties in his art to charm him. 

Adrian Brouwer was born in tlie city of Haerlem, A.D. 
1608 ; and besides his great obligations to nature, was very 
much beholden to Francis HalSy who took him from begging 
in the streets, and instructed him in the rudiments of paint- 
ing. To make him amends for his kindness, Brouwer when 
he found himself sufficiently qualified to get a livelihood, ran 
away from his master into France, and after a short stay there 
returned and settled at Antwerp. Humor was his proper 
sphere : and it was in little pieces that he used to represent 
boors, and others, as pot-companions drinking, smoaking to- 
bacco, gaming, fighting, &c. with a pencil so tender and 
free, such excellent drawing in all the particular parts, and 
good keeping in the whole together, that none of his coun- 
trymen have ever been comparable to him in any of those 
subjects. He was facetious and pleasant over his cups, as 
long as he had any money scorned to work, declared for a 
short life and a merry one ; and resolving to ride post to his 
grave by the help of wine and brandy, got to his journey's 
end A. D. 1638 ; so very poor, that contributions were rais- 
ed to lay him privately in the ground : from whence he was 
soon after taken up, and, 'tis said, very handsomely interred 
by Rubens, who was a great admirer of his happy genius for 

PiETRO Frakcesco Mola, of Lugauo, born A.D. 1609, 
was a disciple of yilhani, whose agreeable and pleasant style 
of painting he acquired, excepting that his coloring was not so 
liiilliant. But as his conceptions were li\ely and warm, so 
hetlesigned with great spirit and liberty of pencil, sometimes 
perhaps more than was in strictness allowable. He was in 
such great esteem, however, for abundance of fine perform- 
ances in Rome, that his sudden death, A.D. 1665, was re- 
gretted by all the lovers of art. He was aged 56. 



Gio Uattista Mola Avas his brother ami fellow disciple- 
Though he eould not attain the perfcctioii of Albania in his 
figures, which in truth were a little hard, yet in landscapes 
he carne so very near him, that liis four large pieces in duke 
SalviatPs palace at Rome, are generally taken for his mas- 
ter's hand. 

Samuel Cooper, an English miniature painter, was born 
in Londoit, 1609, and bred under the care and discipline of 
l\]r. I/os/iins, his uncle ; but derived the most advantage from 
his observations on the works of Vambjke, insomuch that h« 
was commonly styled the Fandyke in little. His pencil was 
generally confined to a head only ; and indeed below that 
part he was n(<t always so successful as could be wished. For 
a face and all its dependences — the graceful and becoming 
air,' the strength, relievo, and noble spirit, the softness and 
tender liveliness of flesh and blood, and the looseness and 
"■entle management of the hair — his talent was so extraordi- 
nary, that for the honor of our nation it may be affirmed, 
he was at least equal to the most famous Italians, and that 
hardly any one has been able to shew so much perfection in 
so narrow a compass. The high prices his works sold at, and 
the great esteem they were in at Rome, Venice, and in 
France, were abundant proofs of their worth, and extended 
the fame of this master throughout Europe. He so far ex- 
ceeded his master and uncle, Hoskins, that the latter became 
jealous of him : finding his nephew's productions were bet- 
ter liked by the court than his, he took him into partnership. 
His jealousy increased, and he dissolved it, leaving our artist 
to set up for himself, and to carry, as he did, most of the 
business of that time before him. He drew Charles II. and 
his queen, the duchess of Cleveland, the Duke of York, and 
most of the court ; but his greatest pieces, were those of 
Oliver Cromwell and of one Swingfield. The French king 
offered 15ol. for the former, but could not have it ; and Coo- 
per carrying the latter with him to France, it was much ad- 
mired there, and introduced him into the favor of that court. 
He did several large limnings in an unusual size for the court 
of England, for which his widow received a pension during 
her life, from the crown. 

Vol. IV. 2 part 2 Answerable 


Answerable to Cooper''s abilities in painting, was his skill 
in music ; he was reckoned one of the best lutenists, as well 
as the most excellent limner, of his time. He spent several 
years of his life abroad, was personally acquainted with tha 
greatest men of France, Holland, and his own country, and 
by his works was known in all parts of Christendom. He 
died at London in 1672, aged 63, and was buried in St. Pan- 
crass' church in the fields, where there is a marble monu- 
ment set over him, with a Latin inscription. 

He had an elder i>rother, Alexander Cooper^ who, with him 
was brought up to limning by Hoskins, their uncle. Alex- 
amler performed well in miniature ; and going beyond sea, 
became limner to Christina^ queen of Sweden, yet was far 
exceeded by his brother Samuel. He also did landscapes in 
water colors extremely well, and was accounted an admir- 
able draftsman, 

Adrian van Ostade, an eminent Dutch painter, was 
born at Lubeck in 1610, and came to Haerlem very young to 
study under Frank Hals^who was then in esteem as a painter. 
Ostade formed under him a good taste in coloring, adopted 
the manner of the country, and settled there. Nature ever 
guided his pencil : he diverted himself with clowns and 
drunkards, whose gestures and most triHing actions were the 
subjects of his deepest meditations. The compositions of his 
little pictures are always smoakings, alehouses, or kitchens. 
He is one of the Dutch masters who best understood the chi- 
ai'o oscuro : his figures are very lively, and he often painted 
them in the landscapes of the best painters among his coun- 
trymen. Nothing can excel his pictures of stables : the liglit 
is spread with surprising judgment. All that one could wish 
in this master is a lighter stroke in his designing, and not to 
have made his figures so short. He exercised his art several 
years at Haerlem, with great reputation, till the approach of 
the French troops alarmed him in 1672 ; so that in the reso- 
lution to return into his native land,in order to secure himself 
against hazards from the events of war, he sold his pictures, 
furnitiue, and other effects. Arriving at Amsterdam to em- 
bark, he met with a lover of painting, who engaged him to 
take a lodging in his house. Ostadey obliged by his civilities, 


J 'luff I. pa(fe 12-j. 


HiSToHv of Art 






Supposed Progiefs of ScULPTUHf; 


quitted the project of his voyage, and worked several years 
in making that beautiful set of colored designs which has 
since passed into the cabinet of Jonas Witzen ; where there 
arc some inns, taverns, smoaking-houses, stables, peasants, 
houses, seen from without, and often within, with an uncomi. 
mon understanding of color and truth. The pictures of this 
master are not equal : the middling ones, which are ascribed 
improperly to him, are of his brother /^aac, who was his dis- 
ciple, and painted in the same taste, without being able to 
attain the excellence of Adrian. He was born at Lubeck, 
aad lived usually at Haerlem, where death surprised him 
very young, denying him time to perfect himself. 

The city of Amsterdam lost Adrian Ostade in 1685, aged 
75, very much regretted by all true lovers of painting. His 
prints engraved by his own hand, in aqua fortis, large and 
small, make a set of fifty-four pieces. Vischer and Suyder- 
hoef, and others, have engraved after him. 

William Dobson, a gentleman descended of a family 
very eminent in St. Alban's, was born in St. Andreiifs pa- 
rish in Holborn, A.D. 1610. Who first instructed him in 
the use of his pencil, is uncertain : of this we are well as- 
sured, that he was put out early apprentice to a Mr Peake, 
a stationer and dealer in pictures ; and that nature, his best 
mistress, inclined him so powerfully to the practice of painting 
after life, that had his education been answerable to his o-e- 
nius, England might have been as proud of her Dobson, aS 
Venice of her Titian^ or Flanders of her Vandyke. How- 
much he owed to the latter of those great men, may easily be 
•seen in all his works. No painter ever came up so near to 
the perfection of that excellent master, as this his happy im- 
itator. He was also indebted to the generosity of Vandyke^ 
in presenting him to King Charles I. who took him into his 
immediate protection, kept him in Oxford all the while his 
majesty continued in that city ; sat several times to him for 
his picture, and induced the prince of Wales, prince Rupert, 
and most of the Lords of his court, to do so. He was a fair, 
middle-sized man, of a ready wit, and pleasing conversation ; 
was somewhat loose and irregular in his living ; and notwith- 
standing the opportunities which he had of making his for- 

2 2 tune 


tune, died very poor, at liisliouse in St. Miirtiii's Lane, A.D. 
1647, aged 37. It is to be observed of this artist, that as he 
had the misfortune to want suitable helps in liis beginning to 
apply himself to [>t-inting, so he also wanted more encourage- 
ment than the unhappy times could aflord. 

Michael Angelo Pace, born A.D. 1610, and called ^/i 
Compidoglio^ because of an office he h;id in the capitol, was a 
disciple of Fioravanti, and very much esteemed in Italy, for 
his admirable talent in painting fruit and still-life. He died 
in Rome y\.D. 1670, leaving behind him two sons, of whom 
Gio Bapiisia, the e\ik'^t, was brought up to History-painting, 
under Francesco Mola, and went into the service of the king 
of Spain; but ihe other, called Pictro, died in his prime, 
ond only lived just long enough to shew, that a few year9 
more would have made him one of the greatest masters in 
the world. 

PiETRo Testa was born at Lucca, in the dukedom of 
Florence, A.D. 1611 ; and having laid the foundation of 
painting at home, ^^ cut very poor to Home, and spent some 
time in the school of Domenichi'no ; but afterwards fixed him- 
ScU" in that of Peter Corlona. fie was so indefatigable in his 
^tudies, that there was not a piece of architecture, a statue, 
a bas-relief, a monument, or the least fragment of antiquity, 
in or about Rome, that he had not designed and got by heart. 
He was a man of quick head, a ready hand, and a lively 
spirit, in most of his performances ; but yet for want of sci- 
ence, and good rules to cultivate and strengthen his genius, 
all those hopeful qualities ran to weeds, and produced little 
else but monsters, and wild extravagant fancies : he tried 
very often to make himself perfect in the art of coloring, but 
never had any success that way; and indeed was chiefly com. 
mended for liis drawings and the prints which he etched. — 
He was drowned in the Tyber, A.D. 1650, aged 82. Some 
said he accidentally fell off from the bank, as he was endea- 
vouring to recover his hat, which the wmd had blown into 
the water. But others, who were well accjuaintcd with the 
morose and melancholy temj)er of the man, thought it to be 
a voluntary and premeditated act. 

Charles Alphonse nu Fresno y, born at Paris A.D. 
161 1 , from his infancy gave such extraordinary proofs of his 



1 1 1 STOKY of Art . Tlatell.fmii:, 

JV"2 k 


:&' \ 

5' v.. Wl 






ali^iment to the muses, that he -would undoubted!}' liave 
beei) the [greatest poet in his time, if the art of painting, i^ 
niistres< equally beloved, had not divided and weakened his 
talent. He was about 20 when he learnt to design under 
Perricr and Vouet ; and m 1 C34 went to "Rome, where he con- 
tracted an intimate friendsliij) with Mignard as lasting as 
life. He had a soul not to he satisfied with a superficial 
knowledge of his art. He resolved to go to the root, and ex- 
tract the quintessence. He made himself familiar with the 
Greek and Latin poets ; studied anatomy and the elements of 
geometry, with the rules of perspective and architecture ; 
|:Iesigned after the life in the academy ; after Raffaelle. in the 
Vatican ; and after antiquities wherever he found them : and 
making critical remarks as he gained ground, drew up a body 
of them in Latin verse, and laid the plan of his incompar- 
able poem, de arte Graphka. In conformity to the princi- 
ples therin established, he endeavored to execute his own 
thoughts. But as he never had been well instructed in the 
management of his pencil, his hand was extremely slow; and 
beside, having employed most of his time in an attention to 
the theory of jminting, he had so little left for practice, that 
his performances, exclusive of his copies after others, do 
not exceed fifty historical pieces. Of all his compositions, 
his poem was his favorite ; being the fruit of above twenty 
years' labor. He sent it to the masters of greatest note in all 
places where he went, particularly to Albani and Gitera'nOf 
at Bologna. He consulted also the men of letters and the 
best authors on painting, as well as the works of the most ce- 
lebrated professors of the art, before he put the last hand to 
it. On his return from Italy, in 1656, he seemed very in- 
clinable to give it to the public ; but whether he was per- 
suaded that a translation would make it of more general use, 
or was unwilling it should go abroad without the commen- 
tary, which he promised us in the poem, it was not printed 
till after his death, which happened A. D. 1665, aged 54. — 
He had a particular veneratiou for Tiiian,a.s the most perfect 
imitator of nat^ure, and followed him in his manner of color- 
ing as he did the Car^acci in the gusto of design. Never did a 
French master come so near Titian ^ as Fresnoy. Whatever 
he may want in his pencil to make him famous in after-ages, 



his pen has abundantly supplied ; and his poem i\\yon paint- 
ing will keep his name alive as long as either of those arts 
find esteem in the world. 

Gio Francesco Romanelli, bornat ViterbroA.D. 1612, 
was the favorite disciple of Pcttr Cortona, in whose school 
there was hardly any one equal to him for correctness of de- 
sign, or for imitation of the new style of painting introduced 
by that famous master. His works are in all places well es- 
teemed, but more especially at Rome, where his presentation 
©f the blessed Virgin, is by strangers judged to be of Peter 
Cortona^ s hznd. Died A.D. 1665, aged 50. 

JoNN JouvENET, a French painter, was the son cf Lmv- 
rtence Jouvenet^ also a painter, who descended from a race of 
painters originally of Italy. yo/z« was born at Rouen 1614. 
The elements of his art were taught him by his father, who 
sent him to Paris for improvement. In that city he shortly 
became a very able painter. Le Brun being sensible of his 
^i^rit employed him in the pieces which he did for Lewis. — ■ 
He also presented him to the academy of painting, where he 
was received with applause ; and gave him for his chef (Tccu- 
vre a picture of Esther fainting before AbasueruSy which 
the academicians reckon one of their best pieces. After 
passing through all the offices of the academy, he was elect- 
ed one of the four perpetual rectors nominated on the death 
pf Mignard. His genius lay to great works in large and 
spacious places, which shew that he is to be ranked among 
the best masters France has produced. His easel pieces arc 
pot near so valuable as his large ones, the vivacity of his ge- 
nius not suffering him to return to his work to finish it, and 
there are but few of these. He painted a great many por- 
traits, some of which are in esteem, though he was inferior 
in that way to several of his contemporaries. 

In the latter end of his life, he was struck with a palsy on 
\i\^ right side, so that having tried to no purpose the virtue 
of nnineral water?, he despaired of being tble to paint any 
longer. However, giving a lecture to one of his nephews, 
be took the pencil into his left hand, and trying to retouch 
his disciple's piece in some places, he succeeded so well, 
t-hatit encouraged him to attempt again, till at last he deter- 


mined to finish with liis left Iidnd a large ceiling which he 
had begun in the grand hall of the parliament at Rouen, and 
a large piece of the Annunciation, which we see in the choir 
of the church of Paris. These are his last works, and they 
are no ways inferior to his best. He died at Paris in 1717, 
leaving no sons to inherit his genius ; but in default of sons, 
he had a disciple in his nephew, who after his death was re- 
ceived into the royal academy of painting and sculpture. 

Salvator Rosa, a Neopolitan, born A.D. 1614, in both 
the sister arts of poetry and painting, was esteemed one of 
the greatest masters that Italy produced in that century. — 
In the first his province was satire, in the latter landscapes, 
battles, havens, «kc. with small history. He Avas a disciple 
of Daniele Falcone^ his countryman, an artist of good repute, 
whose instructions he much improved by his study after the 
antiques,andthe works of the mosteminent painters that went 
before him. He was famed for his copious and florid inven- 
tion, for his solid judgment in the ordering of his pieces, for 
the genteel and uncommon management of his figures, and 
his general knowledge in all the parts of painting ; but that 
which gave u more particular stamp to his compositions, was 
his liberty of pencil, and the noble spirit which animated 
all his works. Rome was the place where he spent the 
greater part of his life ; courted and admired by all men of 
quality, and where he died A.D. 1673, aged 59. It is said 
lae lived a very dissipated youth, and that he even associated 
with banditti, which course of life naturally led him, as are- 
treat, into those wild scenes of nature, which he' afterwards 
so nobly described on canvass. Few of his larcrer works 
have found their way into England ; but his paintings beino- 
in few hands, he is more generally known by his prints, of 
which he etched a great number. They chiefly consist c»f 
small single figures, and of historical pieces. There is great 
delicacy in them both in drawing and etching ; but very ht» 
tie strength or general effect. 

Carlo (commonly called CarlinoJ Dolci^ a Florentine, 
born A.D. 1616, was a disciple of Jacoho Vignali^ and a man 
of condition and property. He had a pencil wonderfully soft 



and beautiful, which he consecrated to divine subjects; hav- 
ing rarely painted any thin^r else, except some portraits, in 
■which he succeeded so well, that he was sent for into Gernui> 
ny to draw the Empress's picture. His talent lay in finish- 
ing all his works to a degree of neatness infinitely surprising; 
bu't bis hand was so slow, that, if we may believe tradition, 
he had his brain turned on seeing the famous Luca Giordano 
dispatch more business in four or five hours, than he himself 
could have done in so many months. He died 1686, aged 70. 
Sir Peter Lely, an excellent painter of the English 
school, was born 1611, at Westphalia, in Germany. He was 
bred up for some time at the Hague, and afterwards placed 
under one de Grebber. The great encouragement wiiich 
Charles I. gave to the polite arts, and to painting in particu_ 
lar, drew him to England, 164!, where l)e followed his natu- 
ral genius at first, and painted landscapes with small figures, 
as also historical compositions ; hut after a while, finding 
painting more patronized, he tur^ied his study that way, and 
shortly succeeded so well, that he surpassed all his colempo- 
raries. By this merit he became |)crpetually involved in 
business, and he was thereby prevented from going to Italy, 
to finish the course of his studies, which in his younger days 
he was very desirous of. However he made himself amends, 
by getting the best drawings, prints, and paintings, of the 
most celebrated Italian hands. I'his he laboured at so indus- 
triously, that he procured the best chosen collection of any 
one of his time. Among these were the better part of the 
Arundel collection, which he had from that family, many of 
Avhich wpre sold at his death, at prodigious rates, bearing on 
them his usual marlv, F*. L. ; and the advantage he reaped 
from it appears in that admirable style which he acquired by 
daily conversing with the works of those great masters. In 
his correct design and beautiful coloring, but especially in the 
graceful air of his heads, and the variety of his postures, with 
his exquisite management of draperies, he excelled most of 
his predecessors. Yet critics remark in most of his faces a 
languishing air and a drowsy sweetness peculiar to hinjself, 
foy which they reckon him a mannerist; and he retained 

a little 

History of Art P],;;i2 

Egyptian Paintings 

HlSToKYof Art Pj..lV.paa28. 

Egyptian Paintings 


a little of the greenish cast in his complexions, not easily ibr- 
jTcttinc; tlie colors he had used in ins landscapes; which last 
fault, liowcver true at lirst, it is well known he left off in his 
latter days. But wliatevcr of this kind may be objected to this 
painter, it is certain iiis works arc in great esteem in other 
parts, as well as in England, and are both ecjnally valued and 
envied; for at that time no countr}^ exceeded liis perfections, 
as the vsLvious BeaiU ic'S oi' the age, represented by his hand,suf- 
ficicntl}' evince. He frequently did the landscapes in his own 
pictures after a different nuunier from others, and better than 
most could do. lie was likewise a good history-l)ainter, as 
many pieces now among us shew. His craj'on pictures Avere 
also admirable, and those are commonly reckoned the most 
valuable of his pieces, which were done entirely by himself, 
without any other assistance. Philip P!arl of Pembroke, then 
Lord-chamberlain, recommended him toCha. I. M'hosc picture 
he drewj w hen prisoner at Hampton-court. He was also much 
favored by Charles II. who n)ade him his principal painter, 
knighted him, and would fre(^uently converse with him, as a 
person of good natural parts and acquired knowledge. He was 
well known to, and much respected by, persons of the greatest 
eminence in the kingdom. He became enamoured of a beauti- 
ful English lady, to whom he was afterwards married ; and he 
purchased an estate at Kew, in the county of Surry (his family 
remains there still) to which he often retired in the latter part 
of his life. He died of an apoplexy, 1680, at London, and M-as 
buried at Covent-garden church, where a marble monument 
is erected to hismemory,with his bust, carved by Mr. Gibbons, 
and a Latin epitaph, written, it is said, by Mr. Flatman. 

EusTACHE LE SuEUR, OHO of the bcst painters which the 
French nation has produced, was born at Paris in 1617, and 
studied the principles of his art under Simon Vouct, whom he 
infinitely surpassed. It is remarkable that Le Sueur was never 
out of France, and yet he carried his art to perfection. His 
works shew a grand gusto of design, winch was formed upon 
antiquit}-, and after the best Italian masters. He invented with 
ease, and his execution was always worthy of his designs, he 
was ingenious, discreet, and delicate in the choice of "his ob- 
jects. His attitudes are simple and noble; his expressions fine, 
singular, and very well adapted to the subject. His draperies 
are set after the gout of Iiajfae/ic's last works. He knew little 

VoLIV. /i pari 2 of 


of the local colors, or the claro obscuro : but he was so much 
master of the other parts of painting, that there was a great 
likelihood of his throwing oEVouci's manner entirely, had he 
lived longer, and once relished that of the Venetian school ; 
which he would certainly have imitated in his coloring, as he 
imitated the manner of the Roman school in his designing. 
For, immediately after Vouefs death, he perceived that his 
master had led him out of the way; and by considering the an- 
tiques that were in France, and the designs and prints of the 
best Italian masters, particularly Kaffaelle's^ he acquired a 
more refined style and a happier manner. Le Brun could not 
forbear being jealous of Le Sueur, who did not mean to give 
any man pain, for he had great simplicity of manners, much 
candor, and exact probity. His principal works are at Paris, 
■where he died April 30th, 1655, 38 years of age. The life of 
St. Bruno, in the cloister of the Carthusians, at Paris, is reck- 
oned his master-piece. They are now in the Louvre. 

John Greenhill, a very ingenious Fnglish painter, was 
descended from a good family in Salisbury, where he was 
born. He was the most excellent of the disciples of Sir Peter 
Lely, who is said to have considered him so much as a rival, 
that he never suffered hiiji to see him pviint. Greenhill, how- 
ever, prevailed with Sir Peter to draAv his wife's picture, and 
took the opportunity of observing how he managed his pen- 
cil ; which was the great point aimed at. This gentleman was 
finely qualified by nature, for both the sister-arts of painting 
and pottry ; but death taking advantage of his loose and un- 
guarded manner of living, snatched him away betimes, and 
only suffered him just to leave enough of his hand, to make 
lis wish he had been more careful of a life so likely to have 
done great honor to his country. This painter won so much 
on the celebrated Mrs. Behn, that she endeavored to perpe- 
tuate his memory by an elegy, to be found among her Avorks. 
We know not the year either of his birth or death. 

William Faithorne, an ingenious English engraver and 
painter, flourished in the nth century. After the civil wars 
broke out, he went into the army, ; M'hen being taken prison- 
er in Basing-house, and refusing to take the oaths to Oliver, 
he was banished into France. He studied several years under 
the famous Champagne, and arrived to a very great correct- 
ness of drawing. He was also a great proficient in engrav- 

IIlSTOKY oi" ART l*L; 




pf the 
Aatonine (ofu/nn 




of the 
Antpnine Column. 

rriSTORY of AKT l*I,:Vipa;i3i. 

PZAJf of t/if . (/rm/ PYRAMID . SF.CTIOJSf of the PYRAMID. 


"^^C'-^ -^^ 





Tlie Rock 
le veUfri hy cilt tint) 

TomJts k Gn^ttoes ^^ 


o a *" 

Q;-'--^ n " ^^^^^^ 

~^"' Temple 

a I r I JhtaU Pyramids 




. ' Sphtnx' " " "■ ■~~ 

Plan of' the Situjtios of the Pyramids. 


ing, as likewise in painting, especially in miniature, of which 
there are many specimens now extant in England. Ke died 
in Biackfriars, in 1 C9 1 , when he was nearly 75 years of age, 

William J-'aifhorne, the son, who performed chiefly in mez- 
zo-tinto, has often been confounded with the father. 

Sebastian Bourdon, an eminent French painter, born at 
jMontpeilier in 1610, had a genius so fiery that it would not. 
let him reflect sufficiently, nor study the essentials of his art 
so much as was necessary to render him perfect in it. He was 
seven years at Rome, but obliged to leave it before he had fi- 
nished his studies, on account of a quarrel. However, he ac- 
quired so much reputation, both in landscape and history, 
that, upon his return to trance, he had the honor of being 
the first who was made Rector of the Royal Academy of 
Painting and Sculpture at Paris. The fine arts being inter- 
rupted by the civil wars in France, he travelled to Sweden, 
where he stayed two years. He was very well esteemed, and 
nobly presented, by that great patroness of arts and sciences, 
Queen Christiana, Avhose portrait he made. He succeeded 
better in landscapes than in history-painting. His pieces are 
seldom finished ; and those that are so are not always the 
finest. He laid a wager with a friend, that he would paint 12 
heads, after the life, and as big as the life, in a day; he won 
it: and these heads are said not to be the worst things he ever 
did. He drew a vast number of pictures. His most consider- 
able pieces are *' The Gallery of M. de BretonvillierSy'' in the 
isle of Notre-Dame; and, "The seven Works of Mercy," 
which he etched himself. But the most esteemed of all his 
performances is " The Martyrdom of St. PetCT^'' drawn for 
the church of Notre-Dame : it is kept as one of the choicest 
rarities of that cathedral. Bourdon was a Calvinist ; much va- 
lued and respected, however, in a Popish country, because 
his life and manners were good. He died in 1673, aged 54. 

Charles le Brun, an illustrious French painter, of Scot- 
tish extraction, was born in 1619. His father was a statuary 
by profession. At three years of age it is reported he drew 
figures with charcoal ; and at 1 2 he drew the picture of his 
uncle so well, that it still passes for a fine piece. His father 
being employed in the gardens atSeguier,and having brought 
his son with him, the Chancellor of that name took a likins to 
him, and placed him with Simon Vouet, an eminent painter, 

R2 who 


was greatly surprised at young Le Brunts, amazing profienc}-. 
He was afterwards sent to Fontainbleau, to take copies ot 
some of Raffaellts pieces. 'Ihc Chancellor sent him next to 
Italy, and supported him there for six years. Lt Brun, in his 
return, met with the celebrated Poussin, by whose conversa- 
tion he greatly improved himself in his art, and contracted a 
friendship with him which lasted as long as their lives. Car- 
dinal Mazarine, a good judge of painting, took great notice 
oi Le Bruii, and often sat by him while he was at work. A 
picture of St. Stepht^n, which he finished in 1651, raised his 
reputation to the highest pitch. Soon after this the King, on 
the representation of M. Colbert, made him his first painter, 
and conferred on him the order of St. Michael. His iNIajesty 
employed two hours every day in looking upon him whilst 
he was painting the family of Darius, at Fontambleau. 
About 1662 he began his five large pieces of the history of 
yllexander the Great, in which he is said to have set the ac- 
tions of that conqueror in a more glorious light than 'Jluintus 
Curtius in his history. He procured several ad vantages for t':e 
Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture at Paris, and form- 
ed the plan of another for the students of his own nation at 
Rome. There was scarce any thing done for the advancement 
of the fine arts in which he was not consulted. It was through 
the interest of M. Colbert that the King gave him the direc- 
tion of all his works, and particularly of his royal manufac- 
tory at the Gobelins, where he had a handsome house," with a 
liberal salary assigned to him. He was also made Director and 
Chancellor of the Royal Academy, and shewed the greatest 
zeal to encourage the fine arts in France. He was endowed 
■with a vast inventive genius, which extended itself to arts of 
every kind. He was well acquainted with the history and 
manners of all nations. Besides his extraordinary talents, his 
))chaviour was so genteel, and his address so pleasing, that he 
attracted the regard and afiection of tlie whole court of 
jFrance, where, by the places and pensions conferred on him 
by the King, he made a very considerable figure. He died at 
his house in theGobelins, in J690, leaving a wife, but no chil- 
dren. He was author of a curious treatise " Of Physiogno- 
my,^' and of another, ** Of the Characters of the Passions." 
The paintings which gained him tlie greatest reputation were, 
besides what we have already mentioned, those he finished 
at Fontainbleau, the stair-case at Versailles, but especially the 



grand gallery there, which was tjie last of his works, and is 
said to have taken him up fourteen years. A more particuhiv 
account of these, or a general character of his other perfor- 
mances, would take up too much room here. Those wIjo 
Mant further satisfaction on this suhject, may consult the 
writings of his countrymen, who have been very lavish in his 
praises, and very full in their accounts of his works. 

Philip Wouvermans, an excellent painter of Holland, 
born at Haerlem in 1620, was the son of Paul WauvermanSy 
a tolerable history-painter; of whom, however, he did not 
learn the principles of his art, but of John JFynants, an ex- 
cellent painter of Haerlem. It does not appear that he ever 
was ii> Italy, or ever quitted the city of Haerlem ; though no 
man deserved more the encouragement and protection of 
some powerful prince than he did. He is one instance, among 
a tliousaud, to prove that oftentimes the greatest merit re- 
mains without either recompence or honor. His works have 
all the excellencies wc can wish, high finishing, correctness, 
agreeable composition, and a taste for coloring, joined with a 
force that approaches to the CaraccVs. The pieces he paint- 
ed in his latter time have a grey or bluish cast : they are fi- 
nished with too much labor, and his grounds look too much 
like velvet: but those he did in his prime are free from these 
fatdts, and equal in coloring and correctness to any thing 
Italy can produce. Wouvermans generally enriched his land- 
scapes with huntings, encampment of armies, and other sub- 
jects where horses naturally enter, Mdiich he designed better 
than any painter of his time : there are also some battles and 
attacks of villages by his hand. These beautiful works, which 
gained him great reputation, did not make him rich : on the 
contrary, having a numerous family, and being but indiffe- 
rently paid for his work, he lived very meanly; and though he 
painted quick, and was very laborious, he had much ado to 
niaintain himself. The misery of his condition determined 
him not to bring up any of his children to painting; in his 
last hours, which happened at Haerlem in 1668, he burnt a 
box filled with his studies and designs, saying, " I have been 
*' so ill paid for my labors, that I would not have those de- 
" signs engage my son in so miserable a profession." 

Nicholas Mignard, an ingenious French painter, was 
born at Troves; whence, having learned the rudimeuts of hia 



art, he wer.t to Italy. On his return he married at Avignon, 
which occasioned him to be called Mignanl of Avignon, He 
was afterwards employed at the court and at Paris, and be- 
came Rector of the Academy of Paintmg. He excelled prin- 
cipally in coloring ; and there are a great number of portraits 
and historical pieces of his doing. He died of a dropsy in 
1668, leaving behind h'm a brother, Peter Mignard, who 
succeeded M. Le Briin in 1690, as first painter to the King, 
and as Director and Chancellor of the Royal Academy of 
Painting. He died March 13, 1695, aged 84. His portraits 
are extremely beautiful. 

Cavalier Giacinto Brandi, born at Poli, in the Eccle- 
siastical State, A.D. 1623, was one of the best masters that 
came out of the school of Lanfranc. His performances in 
the cupolas and ceilings of several of the Roman churches 
and palaces are sufficient evidence that there was nothing 
wanting, either in his head or hand, to merit the reputation 
and honor he acquired. Died A.D. IG91, aged 68. 

Peter Paul Pughet, one of the greatest painters that 
France ever produced, though not mentioned by an}' of their 
own writers, was born at Marseilles in 1623. We have no 
account of his education in this art; but in his manner he re- 
sembled Michael Angela, without imbibing his faults ; being 
both more delicate and more natural than that great master : 
like whom too, Pughet united the talents of painting, sculp- 
ture, and architecture. Not contented with animating the 
marble, and rendering it in appearance as Hexible as flesh it- 
self, when he was called upon to exert his skill, he raised 
and adorned palaces in a manner that proved him a judicious 
architect; and, when he committed the charming produc- 
tions of his imagination to canvass, he painted such pictures 
as the delighted beholder was never tired with viewing. He 
died in the place of his birth, in 1695. 

Philippo Lauro was born in Rome, A.D. 1623, and train- 
ed up to painting under his brother-in-law Angela Carosello, 
whom he assisted in many of his works, and always acquitted 
himself with applause. But, upon leaving his master, he 
pursued his own genius, in a style quite difl^erent from him; 
and contracting his talent into a narrower compass, confined 
his pencil to small figures, and histories in little. He lived 
for the most part in Rome, highly valued for his rich vein of 
mvcntion and accurate judgment, for the purity of his out- 



line, the delicacy of his coloring, and tlie graceful spirit that 
brightened all his compositions. Died A.D. 1694, aged TU 

Carlo Maratti ■was born at Camorano, near Ancona, 
A.D. 1625. He came a poor boy to Rome, at eleven years 
of age, and at twelve recommended himself so advantage- 
ously to Andrea Sacchi, by his designs after Raffadk^ in tlie 
Vatican, that he took him into his school, where he continued 
his studies 25 years, to the death of his master. His graceful 
and beautiful ideas were the occasion of his being generally 
employed in painting Madonnas and female saints. Hence 
Sahator Hosa satirically nick-named him Carluccio della Ala- 
donna. This he was so far from reckoning a diminution of his 
character, that in the inscription on his monument at Termini 
(placed there by himself nine years before his decease) he calls 
it ^^ glo}-zosu7}i cognomen tu77i" and professes his particular de- 
votion to the blessed Virgin. He possessed an excellent style, 
great elegance of handling, and correctness of outline. From 
the finest statues and pictures he had made himself master of 
the most perfect forms, and charming airs of heads, which he 
sketched with as much ease and grace as Parmegiano^ ex- 
cepting that author's profiles. He has produced a nobler va- 
riety of draperies, more artfully managed, more richly orna- 
mented, and with greater propriety, than even the best of the 
moderns. He was inimitable in adorning the head, and in the 
disposal of the hair : and his elegant forms of hands and feet, 
(so truly in character) are hardly to be found in Raffaelle him- 
self. Among the many excellent talents he possessed, grace- 
fulness was the most conspicuous. And to him may be applied 
what Paiisanias tells us was to Apelles: " That such and such 
" a master surpassed in some particulars of the art, but in 
" gracefulness he was superior to them all." It is endless to re- 
count the celebrated pieces of this great man, which might 
have been more numerous, had he been as intent upon acquir- 
ing riches as fame. He executed nothing slightly, often chang- 
ed his design, and almost alwa3^s for the better: and therefore 
his pictures were long in hand. It had been objected by some 
critics that his works, from about the 70th year of his age, 
were faintly and languidly colored. But he knew by experi- 
ence that shadows gain strength, and grow deeper by time ; 
and he lived long enough to see his pieces confute their error. 



He made several admirable portraits of popes, cardinals, ana 
other people of distinction ; from whom he received high 
testimonies of esteem ; as he likewise did from almost all 
the monarchs and princes of Europe, in his time. In his ear- 
lier days, for subsistence, he etched a few prints, of his own 
invention and after "others, with erjiial spirit and correctness. 
He was appointed keeper of the paintings in the Pope's Clnu 
pel, and the Vatican, by Innocent XI. confirmed therein by 
his successors, and received the additional honor of knight- 
hood from the pope. He erected two noble njonuments for 
Eaftidle and Hannibal, at his own expence, in the Pantheon. 
How well he maiiitaincd the dignity of his profession appears 
by his answer to a Roman prince, who taxed him with the 
excessive price of his pictures. He told him there was a vast 
debt due from the world to the famous artists his predecssors, 
and that he, as their rightful successor, was come to claim 
the arrear. His abilities in painting were accompanied with 
a o-reat many Christian and moral virtues, particularly with 
an extensive charity, which crowned all the rest. Died 
A.D. ni3, aged SS. 

His chief disciples were Nicolo Biretloni, who died long 
before him, and Giuseppe C/iiai-i. The former carried color- 
inf to a gtcat height, especially in his frescos, at the Alticri 
palace. It is said indeed his master was his constant coadju- 
tor ; and his works have succeeded the better for it. 

LucA GioDARNo, was born In 1632, at Naples, in the 
neighbourhood of Joseph Ribcra, ( i. e. SpagnoleltoJ whose 
works attracted him so powerfully, that he left his childish 
amusements for the pleasure he foimd in looking on them. — 
So manifest an inclination ior painting, determined his father, 
a middling painter, to place him under that master, with 
wliom he made sijch advances, that at seven years old his 
])roductions were surprising. Hearing of those excellent 
j>aintings that are at Venice and Piome, he quitted Naples in 
private for Home. He attached himself to the manner of l^i- 
flro da Corf.o7ia, v/hom he assisted. His father, who had 
been looking for him, found him at work in 6V. Petcr''s. From 
Rome they set out together to Bologna, Parma, and Venice. 
At every place Liica made sketches and studies from the 
works of all the great masters, but especially Paul Veronesey 
whom he alwaws purposed fOr his model. It is said Giordano 



had been so great a copier, that he had copied the rooms and 
apartments of the Vatican a dozen times, and the battle of 
Consiantine twenty. He also went to Florence, where he be- 
oan afresh to study, copying the works of Leonardo da Vinciy 
Michael ylngelo^ nnd Andrea ddSarto. He went b;ick to Rome, 
Avhence, after a ver}' short stay, he returned to Naples, and 
there miirricd against his father's inclinations, who appre- 
hended such an engagement might lessen his attention to his 
profession. After seeing the paintings at Rome and Venice, 
Zzira quitted his master's manner, and formed to himself a 
taste and manner, which partook somewhat of all the other ex- 
cellent masters; whence Bel/ori calls him the ingenious bee, 
who extracted his honey from the flowers of the best artists. 
His reputation was soon so Avell established, that all public 
works were entrusted to him, and he executed them with the 
greatest facility and knowledge. Some of his pictures being 
carried into Soain, so muc'i pleased Chai^les II. that he engag- 
ed him to his court in 1692, to paint the Escurial, in which 
lie acquitted himself as a great painter. The king and queen 
often went to see him work, and commanded him to be cover- 
ed in their presence. In the space of two years, he finished 
the ten arched roofs and the stair-case of the Escurial. He 
afterwards painted the gi-and saloon of Buen RetirOy the sa- 
cristy of the great church of Toledo, the Chapel of the Lady 
of Atocho, the ceiling of the. Royal Chapel at Madrid, and 
other wprks. He was so engaged to his business, that he did 
not even rest from it on holidays, for which being reproached 
by a painter of his acquaintance, he answered, " If I were to 
" let my pencils rest, they would grow rebellious, and I should 
*' not be able to bring them to order without trampling on 
" them." His lively humor and smart repartees amused the 
whole court. The Queen of Spain, one day enquiring after 
his family, wanted to know what sort of a woman his wife 
was? Giordano painted her on the spot in a picture he was at 
work upon, and shewed her to the Queen ; who was the more 
surprised, as she had not perceived what he was about, and 
was so pleased, that she took off her necklace, and desired 
him to present it to his wife in her name. He had so happy 
a memory, that he recollected the manners of all the great 
masters, and had the art of imitating them so well, as to oc- 
casion frequent mistakes. The King shewed him a picture 
Vol. IV. Spart 2. ef 


of BassanOf expressing his concern that he had not a compa- 
nion : Giordano painted one for him so exactly in Bassano's 
manner, that it was taken for a picture of that master. 

The great works Giordano had executed in Spain, gave 
him still greater reputation when he returned to Naples, so 
that he could not supply the eagerness of the citizens, though 
he worked so quick, 'i he Jesuits, who had bespoken a pic- 
ture of St. Francis Xavier, complaining to the Viceroy that 
he would not finish it, and that it ought to be placed on the 
altar of that saint on his festival, which was just at hand; find- 
ing himself pressed on ail sides, he painted this piece in a day 
and a half. Oftentimes he painted a V^irgin holding a Jesus, 
and, without any rest, in an hour, would finish a half-length; 
and for dispatch, not waiting the cleaning of his pencils, 
would lay on his colours with his finger. His manner had 
great lightness and harmony : he understood fore-shortening, 
but as he trusted to the great practice of his hand, he often 
exposed to the public pictures that were very indifferent, 
and very little studied, in which he appears also to have been 
incorrect, and little acquainted with anatomy. Nobody ever 
painted so much as Giordano, not even Tintoret ; his school 
grew into such repute, that there was a great resort to it 
from Rome and all quarters; he loved his disciples, whose 
works lie touched with great readiness, and assisted them 
with his designs, which he gave them with pleasure. His ge- 
nerosity prompted him to make presents of altar-pjeces to 
churches that were not able to purchase them. He painted, 
gratis, the cupola of St. Bridget for his reputation, and touch- 
ed it over a second time. By a particular dexterity of ma- 
nagement, that roof, which is rather flat, seems much elevated, 
by the lightness of the clouds whicii terminate the perspective. 
Two Neapolitans, having sat for their pictures, neglected 
to send for them when they were finished. Giordano. liavin<r 
waited a great while without hearing from them, painted an 
ox's head on one, and a Jew's cap on the other, and exposed 
them in that manner: on the news whereof they brought him 
the money, begging him to efface the ridiculous additions. 
Though his humor was gay, he always spoke well ol'his bro- 
ther painters, and received any hints that were given him 
with great candor and docility. The commerce he had with 



several men of learning was of great use to him: they furnished 
him with elevated thoughts, reformed his own, and instructed 
him in history and fable, which he had never read. His la- 
bors Mere rewarded with great riches, which he left to his 
family, who lost him at Naples in 1705, when lie was 73. 
His monument is in the church of St. Bridfjet, before the 
chapel of St. Nicolas cle Ban, which is all of his hand. 

Giro Ferri, a Roman, born A. D. 1628, a faithful imitator 
of Peter Cortona, under whom he was bred : and to whom he 
came so near in his ideas, his invention, and his manner of 
painting, that he was chosen (preferably to Peter Testa, and 
Romanelli, his fellow disciples) to finish those pictures, which 
his master left imperfect at his death. He had an excellent 
taste in architecture, and drew several designs for the public. 
He made cartoons for some of the Mosaic-works in the Vati- 
can : and having in a great many noble performances distin- 
guished himself, b}^ the beauty and fertility of his genius, died 
A. D. 1690, aged 62. 

Christopher Wren, a learned and most illustrious Eng- 
lish architect and mathematician, was descended from an an- 
cient family of that name at Binchester, in the bishopric of 
Durham. Christopher was born at Knoyle, October 20, 1 632 ; 
and while veiy young, discovered a surprising turn for learn- 
ing, especially for the mathematics. He was sent to Oxford, 
and admitted a gentleman commoner at Wadham-college, at 
about fourteen- years of age : and the advancement he made 
there in mathematical knowledge, befoi'e he was sixteen, was 
very extraordinary, and even astonishing. 

August 1 657, he was chosen Professor of Astronomy inGre- 
sham-college ; and his lectures, which were much frequented, 
tended greatly to the promotion of real knowledge. 

Among his other eminent accomplishments, he had gained 
so considerable a skill in architecture, that he was sent for the 
same year from Oxford, by order of Charles II. to assist Sir 
John Denham, surveyor-general of his Majesty's works. 

In 1663, he was chosen Fellow of the Royal Society; being 
one of those who were first appointed by the Council, after 
the grant of their Charter. 

In 1665, he went to France, where he not only surveyed all 
the buildings of note in Paris, and made excursions to other 

S 2 places, 


places, but took particular notice of what was most remark- 
able in mechanics, and contracted acquaintance with all the 
considerable virtuosi. Upon his return home, he was appoint- 
ed architect, and one of the Commissioners for the reparation 
of St. PauV?. Cathedral. Within a few days after the fire of 
London, September 2, 1666, he drew a plan for a new city. 
Upon the decease of Sir John Dtnham^ in March 1688, he 
succeeded him as Surveyor-General of his Majesty's works. 
The Theatre at Oxford will be a lasting monument of his great 
abilities as an architect; which curious work was finished in 
1669. In this structure the admirable contrivance of the flat 
roof, being eighty feet over one way, and seventy the other, 
without any arched work or pillars to support it, is particularly 
remarkable. But the conflagration of the city of London gave 
him many opportunities afterwards of employing his genius 
in that way; when, besides other works of the crown con- 
tinued under his care, the Cathedral of St. Paid^ the parochial 
Churches, and other public structures, which had been de- 
stroyed by that dreadful calamity, were rebuilt from his de- 
signs, and under his direction ; in the management of which 
affair, he was assisted in the measurements, and laying out of 
private property, by the ingenious Mr. Robert Ilookc. 

About the year 1675, he married the daughter of Sir Thomas 
Coghill, of Blechington, in Oxfordshire, by whom he had one 
son of his own name; and she dying soon after, he married a 
daughter of William Lord Fitz-Williayu, baron of LiflPord in 
Ireland, by whom he had a son and a daughter. In 1680 he 
was chosen President of the Royal Societv ; afterwards ap- 
pointed Architect and Commissioner of Chelsea-college; and 
in 1684, Principal Officer and Comptroller of the works in the 
Castle of Windsor. He sat twice in Parliament, as a represen- 
tative for two different boroughs; first, for Plympton in 
Devonshire in 1685, and again in 1700 for Melcomb Regis in 
Dorsetshire. He died Feb. 25, 1723, aged 91, and was in- 
terred with great solemnity in St. Pow/'s Cathedral, in the vault 
under the south wing of the choir, near the east end. 

Among the many public buildings (50 or 60) erected by him 
in the city of London, the Chiu'ch of St. Skphen in Walbroke, 
that oi^t. Mary le Bow, the Monument, and the Cathedral of 
St. Paid, have more especially drawn the attention of foreign 



connoisseurs. The church of Walbroke, is famous all over 
Europe, and is justly reputed his master piece. Perhaps Italy 
itself can produce no modern building that can vie with this in 
taste or proportion : and foreigners justly call our judgment in 
question, for understanding its graces no better. The steeple 
of St. Mary le Bow, is particularly grand and beautiful. The 
Monument is a pillar of the Doric oruer ; the pedestal is 40 feet 
high, the diameter of the column 15 feet, and the i^ititude of 
the whole 202 ; it was begun m 1671, and finished m 1677. 
Of St, PaiiCs Church, the first stone was laid the 21st of June 
1675 ; the body finished, and the cross set up, in 1711. 

John Rilev, born in London, A. D. 1 646, Avas instructed in 
the first rudiments of painting by Mr. SoziiifandMr. /^i<//fr;, but 
left them while he was very young, and began to practise after 
the life: yet acquired no great reputation, till after the death 
of Sir Peter Lely, whom he succeeded in the favor of King 
Charles II. Upon the accession of King William and Queen 
Mary to the crown, he was sworn their principal painter; which 
place he had not enjoyed in the preceding reign, though King 
James, and his Queen, were both pleased to be drawn by his 
hand. He was very diligent in the imitation of nature ; and by 
studying the life, rather than following any particular manner, 
arrived to a pleasing and most agreeable style of painting. His 
peculiar excellence was a head, especially the coloring part, 
He was a gentleman extremely courteous in his behavior, en- 
gaging in his conversation, and prudent in his actions. He was 
a dutiful son, an affectionate brother, a kind master, and a 
faithful friend. He never was guilty of a piece of vanity (too 
common among artists) of saying mighty things on his own be- 
half; but contented himself with letting his works speak for 
him; he died of the gout, A. D. 1691, aged 45. 

Francis le Moine, an excellent French painter, was born 
at Paris in 1688, and trained up under Ga//oc^(?, Professor of the 
Academy of Painting, of which he himself became afterwards 
Professor. Le Moine painted the grand saloon, Avhich is at the 
entrance into the apartments of Versailles, and represents the 
apotheosis oi Hercules. He was four years about it ; and the 
King, to shew how well pleased he was with it, made him his 
first painter in 1736, and some time after added a pension of 
3000 livres to the 600 he had before, A fit of lunacy seized 



this painter the year after, during which he run himself 
through with his sword, and died, June 4, 1737, aged 49. 

William Hogarth was born in 1697, or 1698, in the 
parish of St. Martin Ludgate. '' He was be)und," says Mr. 
Walpole^ " to a mean engraver of arms on plate." Probably 
choosing this occupation, as it required some skill in drawing, 
which he contrived assiduously to cultivate. 

During his apprenticeship, he set out one Sunday, with tv/o 
or three companions, on an excursion to Highgate. Tlie 
weather being hot, they vi'ent into a public-house, where they 
had not been long, before a quarrel arose between some per- 
sons in the same room. One of the disputants struck the other 
on the head with a quart pot, and cut him very much. The 
blood running down the man's face, together with the agony 
of the wound, which had distorted his features into a hideous 
grin, presented Hogarth, who shewed himself thus early " ap- 
prised of the mode nature had intended he should pursue," 
with too laughable a subject to be overlooked. He drew out 
his pencil and produced on the spot one of the most ludicrous 
figures that ever was seen : being an exact likeness of the man, 
his antagonist, and the principal persons gathered round him. 
It is presumed that he began business, on his own account, 
at least as early as 1720. His first employment seems to have 
been the engraving of arms and shop-bills. The next step was 
to design and furnish plates for booksellers. 

It was Mr, Hogarth's custom to sketch out on the spot any 
remarkable face which particularly struck him: being once at 
the Bedford coffee-house, he was observed to draw somethinjr 
with a pencil on his nail, which proved to be the countenance 
(a whimsical one) of a person who was then at a small distance. 
While Hogarth was painting the " Rake's Progress," he 
had a summer residence at Isleworth ; and never failed to 
question the company who came to see these pictures, if they 
knew for whom one or another figure was designed. When 
they guessed wrong, lie set them right, 

In 1730, Mr. Hogarth married the only daughter of Sir 
James Thornhill, by whom he had no child. This union, in- 
deed, was a stolen one, and consequently without the approba- 
tion of Sir James, who, considering the youth of liis daughter, 
then barely 18, and the slender finances of her husband, as yet 



an obscure artist, was not easily reconciled to the match. 
Soon after this period, however, he began his " Harlot's Pro- 
gress" (the coffin in the last plate is inscribed Sept. 2, ITSl) ; 
and was advised by Lady Thornhill to have some of the scenes 
in it placed in the way of his father-in-law. Accordingly, one 
morning, Mrs. Hogarth conveyed several of them into his din- 
ing-room. AVhen he arose, he enquired from whence they came, 
and being told by whom they were introduced, lie cried out, 
" Very well ; the man who can furnish representations like 
*' these, can also maintain a wife without a portion." He de- 
signed this remark as an excuse for keeping his purse-strings 
close; but soon after, became reconciled and generous to the 
young people 

Soon after his marriage, Hogarth had summer lodgings at 
South Lambeth ; and being intimate with Mr. Tyei^s^ contri- 
buted to the improvement of the Spring -Gardens at Vauxhall, 
by the hintof embellishing them with paintings, some of which 
were the suggestions of his own truly comic pencil. For his 
assistance, Mr. Tyers gratefully presented him with a gold 
ticket of admission for himself and his friends, inscribed 


In 1733, his genius became conspicuously known. The third 
scene of his " Harlot's Progress" introduced him to the notice 
of the great. At a Board of Treasury which was held a day 
or two after the appearance of that print, a copy of it was 
shewn by one of the Lords, as containing, among other excel- 
lencies, a striking likeness of Sir John Gonson. It gave uni- 
versal satisfaction, from theTreasury eachLord repaired to the 
print-shop for a cop}- of it, and Hogarth rose completely into 

In this work he launches out his young adventurer a simple 
girl upon the town, and conducts her through all the vicissi- 
tudes of wretchedness to a premature death. This was paint- 
ing to the understanding and to the heart; none had ever be- 
fore made the pencil subservient to the purposes of moralitxt 
and instruction ; nor was the success of Hogarth confined to 
his persons. One of his excellencies consisted in what may be 
termed the furniture of his pieces; for as in sublime and his- 
torical representations the fewer trivial circumstances are per- 
mitted to divide the spectator's attention from the principal fi- 
gures, the greater is their force j so in scenes copied from fa- 


miliar life, a proper variety of little domestic images throw-< 
a degree of verisimilitude on the whole. *' The Rake's levcc- 
room," says Mr. fFalpole, "the nobleman's dining room, the 
*' apartments of the husband and wife in Marriage a la Mode, 
" the alderman's parlor, the bed-chamber, and many others, 
**are the history of the manners of the age." The novelty and 
excellence of his performances tempted the needy artist and 
print-dealer to avail themselves of his designs, and rob him of 
the advantages he was entitled to derive from them. This was 
the case with the " Midnight Conversation," the " Harlot's" 
and " Rake's Progresses," and others of his early works. To 
put a stop to depredations like these on the property of himself 
and others, and to secure the emoluments resulting from his 
own labors, he applied to the legislature, and obtained an act 
of parliament, S George II. chap. 38, to vest an exclusive right 
in designers and engravers, and to restrain the multiplying of 
copies of their works without the consent of the ^.rtist. 

In 1745, Hogarth sold about 20 of his pictures by auction ; 
and in the same year acquired additional reputation by the 
six prints of " Marriage a la Mode." 

Ilogarlh had projected a '* Happy Marriage," by way 
of counterpart to his *' Marriage a la Mode;" but never 
finished it. After the peace of Aix la Chapelie, he went to 
France, and was taken into custody at Calais, while drawing 
the gate of that town : a circumstance he has recorded in his 
picture, intituled, *' O the Roast Beef of Old England !" pub- 
lished March 26, 1749. He was carried before the Governor 
as a spy, and committed a prisoner to Gransire, his landlord, 
on his promising that Hogarth should not gq out of his house 
till he was to embark for England. 

In 1753, he published " The Analysis of Beauty, written 
to fix the fluctuating ideas of taste." In this performance he 
shews, that a curve is the line of beauty, and that round 
swelling figures are most pleasing to the eye ; his opinion has 
been countenanced by subsequent writers. 

About 1757, his brother-in-law, Mr. Thoruhilly resigned 
the place of King's serjeant painter in favor of Mr. Hogarth. 

The last memorable event in our artist's life, was his quarrel 
personal and political with Messrs. W^il/iesiind Churchill ; but, 
at the time these hostilities were carrying on in a manner oo vi- 
rulent and di.sgraceful to all the parties, //(r^^arZ/nvas visibly de- 


ciiiiing in his health. In 1762, he complained of an inward 
pain,whichcontinuingbrou£jhton ageneral decay that proved 
incurable. This last year of his life heemploj^ed in retouch- 
ing his plates, with the assistance of several engravers whom 
he took with him to Chiswick. Oct. 25, 1 764, he was convey- 
ed from thence to Leicester-fields, in a very weak condition, 
3'et remarkably chearful ; and receiving an agreeable letter 
from the American Dr. Franklin, drew up a rough draught of 
an answer to it; but going to bed, he was seized with a vomit- 
ing,upon which he rang hisbell w ith such violence that he broke 
it, and expired about two hours after. He was interred in the 
church-yard, at Chiswick, where a monument is erected to his 
memory, with an inscription by his friend Mr. Garrick. 

It may be truly observed of Hogarth^ that all his powers of 
delighting were restrained to his pencil. Having rarely been 
admitted into polite circles, none of his sharp corners had been 
rubbed off, so that he continued to tlie last a gross uncultivat- 
ed man. The slightest contradiction transported him into a 
rage. He is said to have beheld the rising enunence and po- 
pularity of Sir Joshua Reynolds ^\ith a degree of envy ; and, 
if we are not misinformed, frequently spoke with asperity 
both of him and his performances. Justice, however, obliges 
us to add, that our artist was liberal, hospitable, and the most 
punctual of pa3^masters ; so that, in spite of the emoluments 
his works had procured him, he left but an inconsiderable 
fortune to his widow. 

Hogarth made one essay in sculpture. He wanted a sign to 
distinguish his house in Leicester- fields; and thinking none 
more proper than the Golden Head, out of a mass of cork, 
made up of several thicknesses c ^mpucted together, he carv- 
ed a bust of Vandyke, which he giJt and placed over his door. 

There are three large pictures by Hogarth, over the altar 
\n the church of St. Mary Redchff at Bristol. 

HpNRY Francis Bourguignon Gravelot, Engraver, 
of Paris, after residing some time at St. Domingo, came 
to London and exercised his talents, both as engraver and 
designer, during thirteen years. The number of pieces 
which he executed is very great : they exhibitequal industry, 
genius, and manual facility. Having accumulated consi- 
derable property he returned to his native country, where 
he died in 1773, aged 74. 

Vol. IV. , T. part 2 John 


John Hamilton Mortimer, History Painter, descended 
from Mortimer, Earl of March, was born at East Bourne, in 
Sussex, in 1739. He possessed a genius of uncommon viva- 
city and brilliancy, with a rapidity and facility of execution 
almost incredible. The present work is enriched with seve- 
ral original designs by this Artist. He obtained the prize of 
tlie Society for the Encouragement of Arts, by his picture of 
P^^/ preaching to the Britons, now in Chipping \V3-combe 
Church, Bucks. In 1779, he was, without his solicitation, 
created Royal Academician by the King, but unfortunately 
died before he could enjoy the honour, after an illness of 
twelve days, 4th Feb. 1779. 

Francis Vivares, Engraver, was born at St. John de 
Bruel, a village of Rouergue. He came to London in 1727, 
intending to foUoAv the occupation of his uncle, a master tai- 
lor, but his love for the arts prevailing, he studied under 
uimiconi, an Italian painter, and acquired great reputation, 
particularly in landscaj es. He remarkably excelled in the 
freedom of his hand in etching. He was there married : by 
ills first wife he had sixteen children, and by the last two, 
fifteen. He died in 1780, aged 71. 

William Woollett, Engraver, was a native of Maid- 
stone ; he studied under Tiviney; his masterpiece is the cele- 
brated print of the death of General Wolfe. He introduced 
that bold and determined style of engraving, especially in 
the etching of his pieces, which now constitutes the chai'ac- 
teristic of the English school. The late Mr. Boydell was his 
patron and employer, and derived great emolument from 
the popularity of his productions : his liberality to the Artist 
evinced his sense of his merits. Mr. W. died in 1783 aged 48, 

Sir Joshua Reynolds was born at PlymptoTi in Devon- 
shire, July 16, 1723 : his father kept a school there, and had a 
numerous family; but being sensible of his son Joshua'?, genius 
for literature and drawing, he sent him to the imiversity, 
designing him for the church. Soon after he grew fond of 
painting; and chose it as a profession, after reading Richard- 
son^^ Theory of Painting. About 1742, he became a pupil 
of Mr. Hudson: and about 1749 went to Italy, in company 
Avith, and under the patronage of. Commodore (afterwards 
l.ord) Keppcl. He returned in 1752 to England : and by means 
of Commodore Keppel, and Lord Edgccumbe, he a\ as soon in- 


tiodnced into the best line of portrait painting : wherein he 
became the most popular painter in Europe. 

In 1764, he promoted the Literary^ Chib, of which many 
eminent men were members ; being honored by the friend- 
ship of most of the literati of England. 

He was long a distinguished exhibitor in the Ro^'al Society 
of Artists: but in 1769, wlieii the present Royal Academy 
was founded, Mr. Reynolds was appointed President ; and 
was knighted. His first discourse from the chair was deliver- 
ed on the opening, January 2, 1769. He also delivered a dis- 
course annually on the distribution of the prizes to the stu- 
dents : his last was December 10, 1790. These have been 
published. About 1770, Sir Joshua proposed the oitnament- 
ing of St. PaiW'a with pictures, by himself and others ; but 
the Bishop of London declined it. 

In 1782, he enriched Mr. Masoii's translation of Fresnoy 
with very valuable notes. In 1785, Sir Joshua visited Flan- 
ders, and there purchased, at a great sale, many pictures 
taken from religious houses, &c. by the Emperor Joseph II. 

In 1790, after a contest among the Academicians, he resign- 
ed his chair as President ; but was persuaded by the mnjority 
to resume it, after a little time, and some explanation ; but 
finding his eye-sight fail him, he again resigned, Nov. 15, 
1791. Nevertheless the Academy rather chose as more re- 
spectful, that he should appoint a Deputy, than that he should 
totally withdraw. He died Feb. 23, 1792, and was buried in 
no little state in St. PauFs church, the whole Academy, and 
many private persons attending the procession. 

As a portrait painter, Sir Joshua will always rank high in 
respect of taste, genius and freedom : but his pictures will 
not so well inform posterity of his merit, as the prints en- 
graved after them : as a history -painter (in which branch he 
practised towards the close of his life) he shewed he ^vas ca- 
pable of great things ; and he has made us regret that his 
performances aie so few. He Avas friendly and encouraging 
to young Artists ; and if report say true, his benevolence was 
known by most of the profession. His character and abilities 
rendered his loss considerable, not onlv to the circle of his 
friends, but to the nation, and to the Arts. 

Sir Robert Strange, Engraver, was born at Pomonaj 
in the Orkneys, 14th July, 1721. He first studied the law : 

T2 but 


but his genius pointing out a different road to eminence, he 
was placed under Mr. R. Cooper^ of Edinburgh. He joined 
the Pretender's forces, and after the ruin of his affairs, he 
wandered for some time a fugitive in the Highlands, and at 
Jast, not without considerable apprehensions, he returned to 
Edinburgh, and afterwards went to London, in his intended 
progress to Home. At Paris, he studied under Lt Bas. In 
njl he settled in London, and became highly distirjguish- 
ed as a historical Engraver. In 1760, he visited Italv, 
where he was received w ith marked respect, and was elected 
member of the learned Schools of Rome, Florence, Bo- 
logna, and made Professor of the Roj-al Academy of Parma, 
and member of the Royal Academ}' of Paintings at Paris. 
He was knighted in 1787, and died of an asthma 5th July, 

Joseph Wright, Landscape and Portrait Painter, usually 
called Wright of Derby, of which place he was a native, 
was a pupil of Hudson. In 1773 he visited Italy, where he 
passed two years. He resided chiefly at Derby, but spent 
some time at Bath, as the air of London did not agree with him. 
He died 1797, in his native town. He excelled in a most 
particular degree, in all pieces in which striking effects of 
fire light, or atmospheric phenomena were introduced. The 
force and truth which distinguish his works, can onlybe appre- 
ciated by inspection, and have placed him at the head of this 
department of art. 

John Bacon, Sculptor, was born in Southwark, 24th Nov, 
1740. At fifteen, he was placed as apprentice to a China 
Manufacturer, at Lambeth, in which station his genius and 
skill were so eminently distinguished, that he obtained no 
fewer than nine premiums from the Society for the Encou- 
ragement of Arts. He introduced the art of modelling statues 
of artificial stone. In 1769 he obtained the Gold Medal of 
the Royal Society, and was admitted as Associate. He exe- 
cuted njany public works of acknowledged merit. The ar- 
ticle Sculpture, in Rees's Encyclopedia, was his produc- 
tion. An inflammation in the bowels terminated his life, 4tlj 
August, 1799. His piety was not less eminent than his pro- 
fessional skill, as the Inscription on his tomb, dictated by him- 
self, pvincies: to the name and date succeed the following 
words ; — • 








A vcr}- interesting Memoir of this Artist, with his Portrait. 
Mas composed and published by his intimate friend, the Rev. 
Ixichard Cecily Minister of St. JoJui's Chapel, Bedford-Row, 

George Morland, Painter, a native of London, learned 
the rudiments of his art under his father, a second-rate Ar- 
tist. His powers of genius were of the first order, and might 
have raised him to the highest rank of his profession ; but 
vicious habits, the most disgraceful dissipation, and an invin- 
cible preference of the most degraded society, stified that 
excellence in an early stage. In proportion as his abilities 
expanded, as he rose in public estimation, his foibles acquired 
force, and his wants, produced by an insane extravagance, 
became urgent beyond his power of supply, altho' he could 
design, compose, and execute a picture, of many guineas* 
value, without quitting his easel: but his talents, Avhich might 
have obtained celebrity and affluence, were seldom called 
forth except to avert, or to extricate him from the impatience 
of his creditors, the pillage of a spunging house, or the hor- 
rors of a prison. It needs not to be Avondered at, that under 
these circumstances, he produced no grand composition : his 
pieces chiefly consist of scenes of rural interest : farms, ale- 
houses, stables, husbandmen, huntsmen, woodcutters, shep- 
herds, smugglers, fishermen, and animals, wild or domesticat- 
ed, received from his pencil all that captivating power of 
correct imitation which the force of truth and nature could 
impart; and what will alwa3-s please the million, whatever 
observations the connoiseur with his scientific rules, may op- 
pose to the opinion of the general. After an ample share of 
those vicissitudes which talents so exalted, and morals so de- 
j)raved, must necessarily produce, hediedina spunging-house 
from excess of intoxication, in 1804, aged 40. A very great 
number of his pieces have been engraved. 



James Barry, Painter, was a native of Cork, in Ireland ; 
his talents first recommended him to the patronage of the 
Dublin Society for the Encouragement of Arts. The friend- 
ship of his countryman and patron Burke, introduced liim to 
Johnson, to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and other men of note, and 
also enabled him to visit Italy. In 1772, he published a reply 
to Winkelmany in which he combated the opinions of that au- 
thor relative to the obstructions which opposed the introduc- 
tion of the Arts into England. In 1777 he was elected Royal 
Academician ; in 1786, he was appointed Professor of Paint- 
ing to the Royal Academy. In 1799 he was removed from 
that office, and soon after was expelled from that Society. 
Some have attributed this to his republican principles; others, 
to his repulsive and almost disgusting manners. He Avas at- 
tacked by a paralytic stroke, which terminated fatally in ten 
days. Died Mar. 22, 1806. He was buried in St. Paa/Z's Cathe. 
dral, with every token of respect from some members of that 
Society of Avhich he had been a member. The most remark- 
able exertion of his c^enius and talents consists of a series of 
historical paintings in the great room of the Society for the 
Encouragement of Arts, in the Adelphi, Avhich he painted 

George Stubbs, Painter, a native of Liverpool, was parti- 
cularly excellent in his delineation of animals. He was em- 
ployed by Noblemen and Gentlemen to paint their favourite 
racers, hunters, &c. He practised Encaustic painting. In 
1766 he published a valuable work on the Anatomy of the 
Horse, including a description of the bones, cartilages, &c. 
He also undertook another laborious work, a Comparative 
Anatomical exposition of the Structure of the Human Body, 
with that of a Tiger, and common Fowl, in 30 Tables, of 
wJiich, however, he published only three Parts before his 
death, which took place in London, at the age of 82, on the 
10th July, 1806. 


AlBANI ... 95 
Albert! (Clierubino) 81 
Albert! (Leon Baptista) 40 
Arpino (Gioieppe da) 86 

Alipius 33 

Antonello tia Mcisiiia 40 

Bacon 148 

Badalocchi (Sislo) . 99 
Bancliiielli (Baccio) . 56 
Bamboccio . . • . lO'Z 
Barocci (Fredericc) . 17 

Barry 150 

Eartolomeo (Fra.) . 47 
Bassano (Giacomo) . 71 
Bassano (Francesco) . 72 
Bassano (Gio. Battista) 72 
Bassano (Girolamo) . 72 
Bassano (Leandro) . 72 
Battaglie (M. Angelo) I] I 
Bclliiio (Gentile) . . 41 
Belliiio (Giovanni) . 41 
Berellini (Pietro) . .106 

Bernini 107 

Bordone (Paris) . . 73 
Borgognone . . .115 
Bourdon (Sebastian) 131 
Bramanle . . . . 4J 
Brandi (Giacinto) . 134 
Brueghel .... 89 
Bril (Matthew) . . 80 
Bril (Paul) ... 80 
Brouwer . . . .120 
Brun (Charles le) .131 
BTunclleschi ... 40 
Buftalniaco .... 40 
Buonarruoti (M. Ange!o)49 
Callari (Paolo) . . 78 
Caiiari (Benedetto) . 78 
Caliari (Carlo) . . 78 
Caliari (Gabrielli) . 78 
Campidoglio (M.Ang.)124 
Carpi (Ugo da) , . 124 
Carraci (Lodovico) . 82 
Carraci (Annibale) . 82 
Carraci (Agostino) . 82 
Carraci (Antonio) . 82 
Castiglione (Benedetto) 109 

Cellini 67 

Champagne . . .113 
Cimabue .... 34 
Ciro Ferri . . . .139 
Clovio Julio ... 64 
Claude Gille (Lorain) 111 
Cooper (Samuel) , 121 
Correggio .... 53 
Corsimo (Pietro di) . 43 
Cortona (Pietro) . .106 

Dobson 123 

Donienichino ... 97 
Doici (Carlo) . . .127 

Dou 117 

Durer (Albert) . . 47 
Dughel (Caspar) . ,112 
Elslieimer . . . . 91 
Entinopos .... 33 
Ercole Procaccini . . 85 
Eyk (Johannes ab) . 40 
Failhorne .... 130 
Farinato (Paolo) . . 76 
Ferri Ciro . . . .139 
Fetti (Domenico) . 102 
Francia (Raibolini) . 46 
Franco (Batlisla) . . 59 
Fresnov (C. AIphonse)124 
Gaddi"(Gaddo) . . 37 
Gaddi (Taddeo) . . 37 
Gaspar Poussin . .112 
Gentileschi (Oratio) . 94 
Gentileschi (Artemisia) 95 
Ghirlandaio (Domenico) 46 
Giorgione .... 51 
Giordano (Luca) . .136 
Gioseppino ... 86 
Giottino (Tomaso) . 39 

Giotto 35 

Goltzius .... 86 
Gravelot , . . .145 
Greenhill (John) . . 130 
Guercino da Cento . 103 
Guido Reni ... 91 
Hans Holbein ... 65 
Billiard .... 87 
Hogarth . . . .142 
John of Bruges . . 40 
Isiodorus .... 33 
Jordaens . . . .110 
Jouvenet (John) . .126 
Lanfranco .... 98 
Lauro (Filippo) . .134 
Leiy (Sir Peter) . .128 
Ligorio Pirro . . ,71 
Lucas Van Leyden , 60 
Mantegna (Andrea) . 42 
Maratti (Carlo) . .135 
Margaritone ... 37 
Masaccio .... 41 
Matthew Bril ... 80 
Matsys Quinlin . . 60 
Maturino .... 61 
Metrodorus ... 33 
Memmi (Simone) . 37 

Mien's 117 

Mignard . . . .133 
Moine (Francis le) . l4l 
MoIb (Francesco) ^ 120 


Mola (Gio. Baltista) . 121 
More (Antonio) . , 73 
Morland . . . .149 
Mortimer . . . .149 
NapoUiano (Filippo) £9 
Nicolo del Abbate . 20 
Nicolo Poussin . . 104 

Nuzzi Ill 

Oliver 87 

Oslade 122 

Palladio .... 75 
Palma (Vecchio) . 70 
Palma (Giovanc) . 79 
Parmegiano ... 69 

Petitot 117 

Perugino (Pietro) . 46 
Piombo (Sebastian de!) 56 
Poelenburgh . . .103 
Polidoro (Caravagio de) 6(» 
Pordenone .... 55 
Primaliccio ... 63 
Procaccini (Ercole) . 85 
Procaccini (Camillo) 85 
Procaccini (Giul.Ccsare)85 
Procaccini (C. Anionio)85 
Provencale , . . . 9iS 

Pughel 134 

Puntornio (Giacomo) 58 
Poussin (Nicolo) . .1041 
Poussin (Gaspar). . 112 
Reynolds (Sir Joshua) 146 
Rafaelle da Urbino . 54 
Rembrandt . . .115 
Reni (Guido) ... 91 
Ricciarelli (Daniele) 22 
Riley (John) ... 141 
Romanelli .... 126 
Romano (Julio) . . 57 

Rosso 62 

Rottenhamer ... 87 

Rubens 93 

Rosa (Salvator) . . 127 
Sacchi (Andrea) , .113 
Salviati (Francesco) . 70 
Salviati (Gioseppe) . 79 
Sarto (Andrea del) . 54 
Schalcken . . . .117 
Schiavone (Andrea) 76 
Sebastian Bourdon . 22 
Sebastiano del Piombo 22 
Signorelli (Luca) . 43 
Snyders .... 97 
Spagnoletto (Ribera) 98 
Sprangher .... 80 

Strange 147 

Stubbs 150 

Sueur (Eustache le) . 129 
Taffi (Andrea) . , 37 

Tempesta (Antonio) 81 

Teniers 101 

Testa (Pietro) . .124 
Tintorelta (Marietta) 73 
Tintorello (Giacomo) 72 
Tintoretto (Donunica) 73 
Titiano (Vecelli) . 52 
Van Dvck . . . .107 
Vaga (Pierino d.O) . 68 
Vanni (Fiautesco) . 87 

Vasari (Giorgio) . . 
Udine (Giinannide) 
Vicellio (Francesco). 
Vicellio (Ora fo) . . 
Veronese (Paolo) 
Verroccliio (Andrea) 
Vinci (Lednarilo da) 

Viola 92 

Vivares . . . , J 4G 
Vi\iano .... 110 


. 74 

Voltfrra (Danicle tia) 7p 
Vouet (Simon) . . 10(» 
VVykel.ain .... 38 
VVoolleit , . . .146 
VVonvprmans . . . I3J 
Wren (Sir Christopher) 139 

Wri.ul.t 148 

Zampieri (Domenico) ' 22 
Zucchero (Taddeo) . 77 
Zucchero (Frederiro) 79 



Of tliis work contains the First Series of Lectures, with Plates of the Human Fi- 
gure, &c. 

The Series of Plates is given at the close of the Volume, pages 274, 275, 276. 

The Plates may ciilier be placed all togelher at the end of the Volume, or at the ead of 
each Lecture, as marked. 


Consists ofihe Lectures on Perspfctive and Architecture. 

The list of Plates to Perspective, with their pages, is given willi the title-page 3. 

The list of Plates to Architecture, wiiii their pages, is given with the list of Plates 

to Perspective. 
N. B. This is the Second Volume, notwithstanding the signature-mark, in some 

Copies, is Vol. in. 

Comprises (he Lectures on Landscape, and the CoMPENniUM of Colours. 
The Series of Plates to the Lectures on Landscape are given at the end of that article, 

page 128. Observe, Plates I. to X. are 4lo. or double Plates, 
The Plates to the Compendium of Colours are Frontispieces only. 


Includes the Dictionary of Terms of Art, and the History of Art. 

The Plates to the Dici ionary are given at theend, on page 193, and may be plac- 
ed at the end, or as marked on Ihc PUtes. 

The Plates to the History are given at the end, pages 123 to 152, and must tx- 
placed to their pages. 

List cf Froidispirrs, ■with their places in this Jf'ork. 

Origin of Design, Frontispiece to Vol. I. — (See vol. iv. p. 194. after Ihe Dic- 
Architecture, Froiitispiecc to Vol. IL— (See vol. iv. p. 191. ibirl.^ 
CoLouRiN'G, Frontispiece to Vol. III. — (See vol. iv, p. 195. ihid. ) 
Briiannia rewarding the Arts, Frontispiece to Vol. IV. — (Sec vol. iv. p. 
19-i. ibid. J 

The Titnaining Emblematical Subjects. 
Preparation OF Colours, . . to face pa^e 1 fComp. of Colours/ \oUllt 

Instructions in the use ofColours, 83 ib. 

Sculpture, 206 ib. 

In Volume W, After the Dictionary. 

Plenty, . 
War,. . 












Seeing, . 






Morning, . 


Noon, . . 




Night, . . 






Date Due -i 










.; '^. 




I . 

Jl jtA- 


h^^- ,^